


Gather the Roses

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sweet, Teacher-Student Relationship, Westeros is a country in this fic, discussions about literature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 81,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: It started with a book.Collige Virgo Rosas and Other Literary Motifs in Westerosi Literature, by S. Tarly.Sansa had to read it for her Mythology Course and hand in a 4000 word essay next week. She was used to working to a tight deadline (she was in her fourth year of university, and between essays and fiction books she usually read about 40 books per semester). The problem was that this particular book was discontinued and there was only one available copy at the university library.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 432
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you all are doing well :-) This will be a short story, but I don't know how many chapters it will have. I intend this to be a fluffy and sweet fic with some hurt/comfort moments.
> 
> I'd like to take the opportunity to recommend _Just a casual, temporary, thing_ by framboise. Her writing style is so beautiful and this fic is one of my favorites :-)
> 
> English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy this. Thanks for reading! :-)

_Collige, virgo, rosas._

_(Gather the roses)_

Ausonius (Latin poet).

**Department of Language and Literature. King’s Landing University.**

It started with a book. _Collige Virgo Rosas and Other Literary Motifs in Westerosi Literature_ , by S. Tarly.

Sansa had to read it for her Mythology Course and hand in a 4000 word essay next week. She was used to working to a tight deadline (she was in her fourth year of university, and between essays and fiction books she usually read about 40 books per semester). The problem was that this particular book was discontinued and there was only one available copy at the university library. 

And Sansa had just found it out.

_Great._

This wasn’t the first time she had to deal with this kind of situation, but she still couldn’t understand why some professors asked their students to read discontinued books.

 _It’s alright_ , she told herself as she pushed the elevator button (the library was on the 6th floor). There was still one available copy, and in case someone had borrowed it, she could try and find it in a second-hand bookstore or at her local library.

Though she just had 8 days to read it and write the essay.

 _Let’s hope it’s available at the university library_ , she thought as she stepped into the elevator. Other students followed her; she didn’t know any of them. The Department of Language and Literature was one of the biggest. It included a wide range of areas such as Poetry, Theatre, Essay, Myth, Film and Literature, Creative Writing, Phonology, Grammar, Linguistics, Pragmatics… Sansa was studying for a degree in Comparative Literature. She studied literary traditions across time and space and was specializing in Westerosi literature and English literature.

When the elevator stopped at the 6th floor, she was the first one to get off. She almost ran to the Literary Theory section, located on the west side, past the dictionary shelving. 

There were twelve shelves in the Literary Theory section, every one of them so long that you couldn’t see the other end. Sansa quickly made her way to the shelves that contained books about motifs, symbols and universal themes and searched for the shelf starting with T. 

_Tabott, Tacey, Tackel…_

She heard footsteps coming closer, but she didn’t take her eyes off the books. 

_Tacker, Taffe, Taffey…_

The footsteps sounded closer.

_Tailor, Talbott, Tanner…_

She was so focused on finding the book that she didn’t notice the footsteps had stopped beside her.

_Tar, Taran…_

_Tarly!_

_Collige Virgo Rosas and Other Literary Motifs in Westerosi Literature_

She smiled triumphally and reached for the book, but another hand stood in her way. Slender fingers caressed the spine of the book before she could grab it.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

She turned her head to see who had been faster than her (she couldn’t believe her bad luck).

Her gaze met his. Grey-green eyes, a hint of amusement coloring them. 

Salt and pepper hair. Dark grey suit. Pale blue shirt.

Sansa widened her eyes in surprise.

_Mr. Baelish._

*

He had never been her professor. They had never spoken either, but Sansa often saw him in the corridors, at the assembly hall, at the library and at the university bookstore. She knew who he was because her mother had told her four years ago, before she started the university.

Catelyn had told her that Mr. Baelish had been one of her best friends in high school, but that when they were 18, he’d had a fight with Brandon, the boy she was dating back then. Her mother hadn’t wanted to tell her in detail, but she’d said that Mr. Baelish had ended up in hospital and that he’d been in serious condition for two weeks. Catelyn had also told her that she’d visited him every day until he was discharged, but afterwards he’d moved to Dorne. He’d been admitted to the prestigious university of Dorne to study Film and Literature. They had never met again, but her mother usually read the articles about movies he wrote in the newspapers. Mr. Baelish was also one of the guests of _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ , a popular literary radio show.

“I wanted you to know this in case he becomes your professor,” her mother had told her. “I’m not certain he would recognize you, but I think it’s fair that you have this information.”

Sansa had wanted to ask her if they had been more than friends, but she’d noticed that her mother didn’t want to talk more about it.

*

Mr. Baelish averted his gaze and took the book from the shelf, his movements unhurried. Sansa watched him, a defeated look on her face. After class she would go to her local library, she decided. And if she couldn’t find it there, she would search the catalogue of second-hand books. Hopefully the book would be available in a nearby second-hand bookstore.

“Such a coincidence that we were looking for the same book.” His voice interrupted her thoughts as his fingers traced the cover.

Sansa sighed.

“It is.” She was going to say goodbye to him and turn away, when he spoke again.

“Actually, I think you need it more than me.” He offered her the book, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards slightly.

Sansa set her eyes on the cover before looking at him once more, surprised.

“Are you giving it to me?” she asked, her voice incredulous. 

He nodded.

“I know it’s no longer in print, and it’s a very rare book. You’d have trouble finding another copy.”

Sansa grabbed the book, and her hands brushed against his thumbs.

She looked up at him, blushing.

“Thank you. I have to write a paper about the literary motifs in the pastoral tradition for next week,” she began to explain but stopped. Surely, he wasn’t interested in hearing her rambling about her homework. She smiled at him and said: “Thank you again. You’ve been very kind. Now I should go.” She began turning away.

“Wait,” he said calmly, and Sansa stopped and tilted her head, looking at him with curiosity. 

There it was again; that amused flicker in his eyes, as if he knew a secret she didn’t.

“Do you know the movie _The Bucolic Place_?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She shook her head.

“It’s a movie from the 40s that pays homage to the pastoral tradition. Eclogues, pastoral novels, pastoral comedies and dramas…” His eyes shone more intensely. “Recently I sent a letter on behalf of the University to the Cinema Museum, asking for a copy, and I received it yesterday. It will be shown this Friday at the assembly hall. I think it might be useful to you.”

“Oh, thank you for telling me. Yes, I’d like to watch it. What time is the movie showing?” She had class in the morning.

“At 4 p.m,” he said and chuckled before adding: “You know, the extended version lasts 12 hours.”

She couldn’t suppress the look of terror on her face, and he chuckled again.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotten the short version.”

“Thankfully.” The word spilled out of her mouth before she could think.

Mr. Baelish didn't seem annoyed. He smirked and leaned closer.

“The short version only lasts 4 hours,” he added.

Sansa giggled and covered her mouth when she remembered they were at the library.

Mr. Baelish pulled away with a self-satisfied expression.

“Of course, I’m not that cruel," he continued. "I’ll pause it about halfway, so we all can take a break.”

Oh, so he was going to be there too. Sansa pressed the book against her chest, trying to bite back a smile. She didn't know why this made her feel excited.

“That sounds much better,” she confessed. "I'll be there if nothing unexpected happens."

His eyes lit up.

"Perfect. Now, I should go. I hope you have a good day and that you don't have to search for any more discontinued books, at least for this week." 

Sansa laughed.

"Thank you. I hope you have a good day too."

"By the way, I haven't introduced myself." He said offering her his hand. "Mr. Baelish. I teach Film and Literature."

"Nice to meet you." She shook his hand. It was warm and soft, and she liked the touch. "I'm Sansa." She watched his face, but it seemed that her name didn't sound familiar to him. Perhaps he didn't know that Catelyn had sons and daughters.

"Nice to meet you, Sansa." He smiled softly and let go of her hand. "See you this Friday."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :-) This chapter is short and is focused on Sansa and Jeyne's friendship but the next one will be longer and will be focused on Petyr and Sansa :-)
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and suscriptions. It means so much! :-)

At lunchtime, Sansa met Jeyne at the university café, like every Monday.

They'd first met in Introduction to Fairy Tales Course during their first year of university. Although Jeyne was studying for a degree in English Literature, they’d had several courses together. However, none of them had had such a great impact on Sansa as that one.

That course had fed her love for stories. 

She’d been raised in a house where fairy tales were told at night. Stories about forbidden rooms, boys that turned into swans, mirrors that only could say the truth, foxes with several tails that feigned their death, golden keys buried beneath the snow… She’d grown up hearing about places that came alive through words. Enchanted forests, magic palaces, secret caves… When she was a child, those worlds had felt real. Sansa had felt as if those places were just a few inches from Winterfell, and for some years, she’d been actively searching for an entrance: a little iron key buried in the back garden; a piece of paper with words written in a strange language (hidden in a secret compartment in a drawer); an antique mirror of unknown origin that didn’t reflect the real images…

As they years passed and her parents ran out of stories, they started reinventing them, taking things from here and there and mixing them to create something new, but Sansa hadn’t found it out until she’d started reading the collections of the Brothers Grimm, Perrault, Andersen, d’Aulnoy and Joseph Jacobs. And she’d realized too that her parents had toned down or omitted some scenes.

Rediscovering those fairy tales in her first year of university had been enlightening. In class, they had studied the original sources and the transmission of variants and had tried to identify the reasons for these changes. Why did some versions of a folktale have a happy ending while others had a tragic one? Why were Fairy Godmothers rare in the original sources and became popular characters in the modern versions? What was the origin of each fairy tale? A professor had commented during a class that Little Red Riding Hood might be from the prehistoric era.

Trying to find answers was fascinating. Sansa had wanted to know more, so she'd chosen more courses in this area. Fairy Tales I and II, Modern Retellings and Anthropology Through Fairy Tales.

Jeyne, on the contrary, was specializing in Theatre Studies. She loved both classic and modern dramas, and she was member of an amateur theatre company. _The Laurel Tree_ , in honor of Apollo. She was the screenwriter and the director. Every time she finished her first draft, she and Sansa read it aloud, as if they were the actors, and they underlined the weakest lines and suggested ways to improve them. Sometimes Jeyne even brought some items from the dressing room; the items they used for the plays. An imitation jewelry crown, a derby, a tunic, a monocle, a mustache…

It was so much fun. They could spend a whole afternoon discussing the script. They got so immersed in those universes, in the conflicts that drove the characters that time went by so fast, and when they reached the end, her minds still needed some minutes before crossing the door to the real world. Then, Sansa and Jeyne put the script and the items from the dressing room away and treated themselves to a cookie or a piece of cake in a cozy café, or went to the movies. The day after, Jeyne started working on her script again and when she finished, she gave Sansa a copy and waited for her opinion before giving copies to the other members of _The Laurel Tree._ It felt good to see that Jeyne trusted her and valued her opinion this much. 

*

The university café was crowded, but they could find a small table in a corner. They quickly made their way through the tables, carrying their plastic trays with food. The constant murmur of conversation filled the room.

“My Ship will open its doors this Friday and I’ve heard there will be free coffee and tea until 8 p.m. We shall go,” Jeyne suggested after they sat down.

Sansa looked up from her plate. My Ship was the first bookstore café that would open its doors in the shopping mall. Sansa and Jeyne had never been in a bookstore café and both of them were really excited to go. But precisely this Friday…

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sansa said apologetically and stirred the potatoes on her plate. “But a movie related to the essay I’m writing for my Mythology Course will be showing this Friday at the assembly hall.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry. We can go any other day.” Jeyne smiled at her.

Sansa tried to return her smile but failed. Jeyne narrowed her eyes.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, and Sansa could hear the suspicion in her voice.

“Nothing,” she answered quickly and averted her gaze.

“Come on, Sans. I don’t need to be a diviner to see there’s something else.”

Sansa left her fork on the napkin and looked at her again.

“In truth, there’s nothing else. The only thing I haven’t told you is that I knew this movie would be showing at the assembly hall because Mr. Baelish told me," she explained, aware that this name would cause an inmediate reaction in her friend.

“What?” Jeyne left the sandwich on her plate and leaned forward. The corners of her mouth started curving upwards and her eyes shone with amusement, as if she'd been wainting so long for that moment. “Mr. Baelish?”

“Yes.” 

“Omg!” Jeyne giggled. 

Sansa had told her the little she knew about her mom’s relationship with Mr. Baelish the first time Jeyne had caught Sansa watching him.

_It had been in their first year of university. They had walked past him in a corridor and Sansa had turned her head unconsciously to keep looking at him._

_“Ohh, you think he’s hot” Jeyne had whispered in her ear as they walked away._

_“Jeyne!” Sansa had turned her head to see if Mr. Baelish had stopped and was looking at them, but he’d already turned the corner._

__

__

_Sansa had hoped he hadn’t heard Jeyne. She’d told her friend that she was just curious about him and had repeated what her mother had told her._

_Since then, Jeyne had caught her watching him many other times and she loved teasing her about that (of course there was never malice in it, and Sansa had never felt annoyed, but she couldn’t help but blush every time her friend mentioned him)._

And she was blushing right now.

“Omg!” Jeyne exclaimed again.

“Don’t imagine things that don’t exist,” Sansa hurried to say, her cheeks feeling warm. “I met him by chance when I was looking for a book at the library. It was discontinued and there was only one copy available. Casually he was looking for the same book, but he let me borrow it instead.”

“How gentlemanly of him!” She grinned.

“And he told me about that movie,” Sansa continued ignoring her comment.

“Ohh and is Mr. Baelish going to be at the assembly hall this Friday?” Jeyne asked in an innocent tone.

“Yes.”

“And of course, you omitted that information because it wasn’t important.”

“Exactly!” Sansa said. “I won’t probably speak with him again. I’m going to attend because this movie is related to my essay topic. That’s all.” _That’s all_ , she silently repeated in her head to quiet the voice inside her that wanted to protest.

“So you’re not hoping to speak with him again.”

“No,” she lied, and Jeyne perceived it.

Her friend tilted her head.

“Sans, I know you. You always have crushes on men twice your age.”

“What? I have crushes on actors twice my age!” she corrected. “It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not the same because Mr. Baelish is not someone unapproachable. He spends several hours here, just like you. You have many opportunities to see him every day. And don’t try to deny it: you think he’s hot. I didn’t believe you when four years ago you told me you were just curious about him, and this just confirms my theory.”

“What theory?”

“You’ve felt attracted to him since the first time you laid your eyes on him, but you’ve been trying to lie to yourself.”

“Okay, perhaps I find him attractive. Perhaps,” she emphasized this word when saw that Jeyne was grinning again. “But I’m not going to flirt with him.”

“Oh, that's what you think right now, but wait until you start having other encounters with him.” Jeyne grabbed her glass and took a sip.

Sansa sighed.

“Jeyne, I have no reasons to speak with him.”

“He recommended you to watch the movie, didn’t he? I’m sure he’ll find the opportunity to ask you your opinion about it. And this will be the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?” Sansa looked at her, confused.

Jeyne raised her eyebrows enigmatically.

“The beginning of what you’ve been hoping for but haven't dared to say aloud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forbidden rooms is a reference to Bluebeard.
> 
> Boys that turned into swans is a reference to The Six Swans.
> 
> Mirrors that only could say the truth is a reference to Snow White.
> 
> Foxes with several tails that feigned their death is a reference to The Wedding of Mrs. Fox.
> 
> Golden keys buried in the snow is a reference to The Golden Key.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this story is bringing some joy <3

Sansa hadn’t told Jeyne to go to the assembly hall with her. The classical pastoral literature was introspective; it often focused on a dialogue between two shepherds about nature, the passing of time, love and death. Considering this and the fact that it was an old movie, it would probably have a slow pace. And if it lasted 4 hours… Well, let’s say this wasn’t the kind of movie you’d watch if you were looking for something addictive.

She was aware of that. However, the idea of not attending hadn’t entered her mind, not even once. As the days passed, she found herself getting more and more excited by the prospect of watching the movie.

 _No; by the prospect of watching him_ , a voice in her head corrected her, but Sansa tried to quiet it.

On Friday noon, as she waited in line at the university café, Jeyne texted her:

_Are you nervous?_

Sansa rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smile despite herself. 

_Why should I be?_ she texted back.

She got Jeyne’s reply almost instantly:

_Girrrl. Cause you’re gonna speak with Mr. X again!!!_

Sansa shook her head biting her lip to suppress a laugh.

 _Mr. X?_ she asked.

_Yep. It’s not safe to write his real name. Anyone could be reading these texts._

Sansa glanced around, almost expecting to catch someone reading over her shoulder, but the guy behind her was also typing on his phone. She shook her head once more and looked down at her phone’s screen. 

_Sorry to disappoint, but no one seems interested in our conversation._

_Better say than sorry_ , Jeyne texted. _Speaking again of Mr. X… keep me updated, okay? I want to know all the details._

Sansa laughed.

 _I don’t know what you’re expecting, but chances are that we don’t exchange any single word._ She’d already told Jeyne that when they’d eaten lunch together this past Monday, but she felt she needed to repeat it.

Though deep down, she hoped to be wrong.

Jeyne’s reply popped up on her screen a few seconds later:

_Well, we’ll know in a few hours._

*

The assembly hall was only filled to half capacity by the time Sansa arrived. It was 3:45 p.m. 

She glanced at the stage. The table and chairs used during welcome speechs, talks and interviews had been removed, and now there was only a lectern beside the projector screen. Mr. Baelish hadn’t arrived yet.

The middle rows were taken, but Sansa preferred to sit in the last row, just like when she went to the movies (on the contrary when she watched a stage play, a ballet or a musical, she preferred to sit at the front, though the tickets were more expensive). 

The last row was empty, so Sansa chose the corner seat near the window and away from the door. The laptop and projector were a few feet behind her, near the wall. She pulled out her phone and opened the Westerosi Interactive Story app.

She’d discovered this app a couple of years ago on a blog, and it had saved her from boredom many times. It was a great way to fill in time while waiting. 

This week she’d started a cozy mystery story starring a group of old ladies and their cats. Sansa was an animal person and she always enjoyed it when there were cute animal scenes in books.

Some people entered the assembly hall as she read on her phone and sat in the first rows, but Sansa didn’t notice; her character had found an important clue, and now, more than ever, the decisions she made would be key. 

When the room went silent, she didn’t notice either.

Mr. Baelish had crossed the threshold and was walking to the stage, carrying a black suitcase. Some people turned their heads in his direction, and he tilted his head as a silent greeting, but didn’t speak. His footsteps didn’t make any sound. He stepped up to the stage and stood behind the lectern. 

“Good afternoon everyone,” he said then.

Sansa lifted her face, startled. When had he entered the room? She closed the app and put her phone in her bag.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see so many faces,” Mr. Baelish added, a smirk playing on his lips. “Though before continuing, I feel obliged to ask: Are you certain you haven’t accidentally walked into the wrong room?”

Soft laughter filled the room. Sansa smiled. He had sense of humor. She’d already realized of it when she’d talked with him at the library.

“All joking aside, I’m glad to see you all, and I hope you enjoy the movie. Many of you would probably be familiar with the pastoral genre. But perhaps there’s someone who knows nothing about it: maybe there’s a classic movie fan among us that didn’t want to miss the opportunity to watch this piece of art. Or perhaps there’s someone that stepped into this room because they felt like watching a movie today. All reasons are valid. Anyway, I think it’s necessary that I give a brief introduction, though never fear; it won’t be long. I’m hoping we’ll be able to leave before midnight.” He smirked again, and most people let out another laugh, Sansa included.

“First of all, I should mention that this movie is from the 40s and was shot in technicolor, a method of making movies in color, invented in 1916. Now, I’d like to ask you all to close your eyes and try to imagine what I’m going to describe.”

Sansa rested her head on the armchair and obeyed.

Mr. Baelish waited some seconds before continuing:

“I want you to imagine yourself under a blue sky. The quiet murmur of a river and the song of the birds fill your ears. The smell of sweet apples in the air. This is an idyllic place, and you could use thousands of words to describe it. After all, you speak like a classic poet and your monologues and replies can last pages. You praise the rural life. The walks you take surrounded by centenary trees, and lakes, and rivers, and flowers. The hills on the horizon, and the eagles and swallows flying across the sky. The ripe fruit you eat sitting on the grass, the cheese, the chestnuts. The musical instruments you play, sometimes with your dear friend (who is also a shepherd) and other times alone. Sometimes you also spend your time talking about the women you loved once (the unrequited love is one of the themes in this genre) or complaining about the decisions a leader has made (decisions that affect your patrimony). This makes you think of how capricious Fortune is and encourage your audience to seize the moment. Carpe Diem, for you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

A silence fell over the room. Sansa didn’t open her eyes. She mulled over his last words.

Carpe Diem. Seize the moment.

She wasn’t an adventurous person. Jeyne had always been bolder than her, she was always willing to try something new, to live an exciting experience, and Sansa admired that quality in her.

A click broke the silence. Sansa opened her eyes and saw Mr. Baelish had opened his suitcase and pulled out the DVD. He got off stage to play the movie, and Sansa’s eyes followed him. There was elegance in his movements, and also confidence. He was used to speaking in public, to being exposed. Sansa hoped someday she could feel as confident as him every time she was the center of attention. The first minutes when doing a presentation in class were the worst; she was always so nervous, and her voice sounded high-pitched. She knew this happened to many other people as well, and that she shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it. She'd talked about it with Jeyne once, and her friend recommended her doing acting. Jeyne even told her to join _The Laurel Tree_ and start playing small roles, but Sansa didn’t feel ready.

_Perhaps I could try after graduating_ , she thought as she watched him. 

When Mr. Baelish walked past the door, his gaze met hers and his lips twitched, and Sansa knew then that he’d already seen her when he’d stepped into the room.

He reached the laptop and inserted the DVD. Then, he turned off the lights so only the emergency lights under the armchairs and on the baseboard and doorposts stayed on.

“You can open your eyes now,” he said. Sansa wondered how many people had kept their eyes closed until this moment.

The sound of a flute filled the room as the opening credits appeared on the screen. Sansa got comfortable, ready to start watching the movie when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a silhouette stand beside her.

Mr. Baelish.

Her stomach fluttered. She turned to him. In the dim light, the expression on his face looked more intense: the flicker of his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth had curved upwards.

“May I sit with you?” he asked.

Sansa remembered Jeyne’s words:

_He recommended you to watch the movie, didn’t he? I’m sure he’ll find the opportunity to ask you your opinion about it. And this will be the beginning._

Her friend had been right, though Sansa was certain that Jeyne hadn't expected him to sit next to her. At least, Sansa hadn't expected so. She'd thought that perhaps he’d approach her at the break to exchange a few words, nothing else. 

Her own reaction caught her off guard. She found herself feeling excited and wished she could know what he was thinking right now. Why did he want to sit with her?

He smiled at her when she nodded.

“Thank you,” he said.

Sansa averted her gaze when he passed her on his way to his armchair. His legs didn’t brush against hers. 

The opening credits were still appearing on the screen when he sat down. Sansa perceived a faint scent of mint. It was pleasant. She resisted the urge to turn to him and tried to focus on the movie instead. 

Neither of them spoke again until two hours later, after one of the shepherds finished his monologue about the differences between rural life and urban life.

Mr. Baelish leaned towards her.

“I think it’s time to have a break,” he murmured.

Sansa smiled at him and nodded. Mr. Baelish stood up and passed her. This time, his right leg brushed against her knee.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Sansa replied, her heart beating faster.

Soon, the screen went black and the lights were on.

“We’re having a 30 minute break,” he said. “You can stay here if you like, I won’t lock the door. Thanks everyone for coming; I hope you all are enjoying the movie so far.”

People started standing up and leaving. Sansa also rose to her feet.

She came closer to him, a little hesitant. She didn’t know what he planned to do during the break.

He was putting the DVD inside the case. When he lifted his head and saw her, a smile tugged at his lips. It looked genuine.

“Would you like to have a coffee with me?” he asked.

Sansa beamed. She’d been hoping he would ask.

“Yes.”

“Great. I’m going to grab my suitcase,” he said gesturing to the stage. “I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” she said with dimples in her cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter can bring you all some joy. Thank you all for reading and for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and suscriptions :-)

Sansa had never gone to the university café in the evenings, and she was surprised to see it this empty. It looked like a whole different place at this time of day. She was used to the bustle, the noise. Now, however, there were just 5 or 6 people in there, and they could only hear a faint cutlery sound (the cashier was putting away the dishes).

They approached the counter. Sansa felt as if this wasn’t real. Less than a week before, they were complete strangers. Well, she knew who he was, but they had never exchanged a word until they met at the library. Sansa couldn’t help but thought of her mother. What would she say if she saw them right now, about to have a coffee together? _This isn’t a date_ , she reminded herself. And her mother didn’t have to know. After all, they weren’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t her professor, and they were just killing time until the second half of the movie started.

Right?

The cashier turned to them when they stopped at the counter.

Mr. Baelish pulled out his wallet and turned to her. When his gaze met hers, Sansa’s heart rate sped up. Gods, she was more nervous than at the library. _Relax_ , she told herself, breathing out slowly.

Apparently, Mr. Baelish hadn’t sensed her nervousness, or if he had, he didn’t mention it. He gave her a small smile and said: 

“It's on me.”

“Oh, no, no, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he cut her off, offering her another smile. “You can pay for the coffee next time.”

Next time? Her heart skipped a beat. _Relax_ , she repeated herself.

She needed to keep her emotions under control. He couldn’t know that she had a crush on him. It would be embarrassing if he knew (she didn’t want to imagine it), but above everything, Sansa didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. She was certain that he wasn’t attracted to her. 

“Alright,” she said nodding and returning his smile. “Next time.”

“Perfect.” He motioned to the display counter. “What would you like to eat?”

The pastries looked very good, and Sansa hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. She glanced at the lemon cream cookies (they were crispy, with lemon buttercream frosting) before looking at him again.

“I’d like to have a lemon cookie and a coffee with milk, please.”

Mr. Baelish smiled and turned to the cashier.

“And I’ll have a black coffee and a dark chocolate slim bar,” he added.

The cashier nodded and registered their order. He printed the bill and handed it to Mr. Baelish. After the professor paid, the cashier turned his back to them and started making the coffee.

Mr. Baelish slid his walled into his pocket again and rested his leg against the counter, returning his attention to Sansa. His eyes lit up.

“Are you liking the movie so far?” 

“Yes,” she said, and it was true.

He chuckled. It was a cheerful sound, and Sansa felt more at ease right away.

“You sound surprised,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Did you think you’d fall asleep as soon as the first shepherd started singing?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “But I thought the movie might be a little boring. Just a little,” she empathized. “Since it lasts 4 hours and old movies usually have a slow pace…”

“Sure.” He didn’t seem annoyed at all, rather it felt like he was teasing her, but why would he do such a thing? No, she must be wrong.

“It’s the truth,” she insisted. “I’m enjoying it.”

“So do I,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving upwards slightly.

Sansa furrowed her brow. 

“Hadn’t you watched the movie?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, but I’ve found myself enjoying it more than when I watched it for the first time.”

“Oh.” Sansa didn’t know what to say. There was something in his gaze that made her blush.

“Your coffee.” The voice of the cashier startled them. The man put the cookie in a paper bakery bag, and placed it and the dark chocolate slim bar on the tray.

“Thank you,” They said almost at the same time. Mr. Baelish grabbed the tray and asked her to pick a table.

Sansa chose one near the door. She tried to think of something to break the silence, but it wasn’t necessary because as soon as they sat down, Mr. Baelish said:

“There’s something I’d like to clarify before we go on.”

His tone was gentle, but Sansa looked at him worried. Was there something wrong?

“I have never had coffee with a student before,” he continued. “I know most times it’s an innocent thing, with no ulterior motives, but I like to keep my professional and my personal life separate.”

Sansa believed him. She’d never heard rumors that he flirted with his students. 

“However, since I’m not your professor, I don’t see anything wrong with this,” he finished and leaned back in his chair, averting his eyes from her.

Sansa knew he was giving her time to mull over his words and express her thoughts. She grabbed a napkin and looked down at the table.

“I had never had coffee with a professor,” she told him. “In my first year a professor said in class that if we needed to meet him during his office hours we had to go to the staff café but I never needed to, so I don’t know if he was joking.”

He looked at her again, his eyes flickering with amusement.

“Mr. Brown,” he said nodding his head. “He wasn’t joking. Since I started working here, I’ve seen him with students in the staff café, surrounded by notes and books. He actually likes to clear their doubts in there. He doesn’t seem to mind the noise.”

“Oh.” It sounded a little eccentric, but Sansa preferred not to say it aloud.

Mr. Baelish leaned forward and grabbed his cup. 

“Now that we have clarified this, tell me, how are you doing with your essay?” he asked before taking a sip.

“I’m finishing the first draft,” she said pulling the cookie out of the paper bag. She was glad they’d had this conversation. “I’ll include some references to the movie.”

Mrs. Donaldson had said that she’d value originality. 

“I’m glad the movie is helpful.” He smiled and unwrapped his dark chocolate slim bar. He offered it to her. “Would you like a piece?”

She returned his smile.

“Only if you accept a piece of cookie.”

He laughed, and there was a brightness in his eyes that made her smile wider.

“Alright, we have a deal,” he said.

He cut the dark chocolate slim bar in two, so Sansa did the same with the cookie.

“Oh, no, it’s too much,” he tried to refuse when she gave him half her cookie.

“Of course not. Please, accept it.” She smiled and stretched across the table.

Mr. Baelish seemed touched by her action. It was the first time she saw him like this, as if he didn’t know how to react. He averted his eyes from her face and his lips parted, and Sansa saw a faint smile, though it soon disappeared. Perhaps she’d imagined it.

“Thank you,” he said taking the piece of cookie and placed it on a napkin, his movements steady. Then he handed her the piece of the dark chocolate slim bar. 

His fingertips brushed against her hand when she took it, and she held her breath. _Relax, relax_.

“What references are you going to include, Sansa?” he asked, apparently oblivious of her reaction. He took a bite of his chocolate bar as he waited for her answer.

She swallowed, the memory of his touch still in her skin. She breathed out and tried to focus on his question.

“Well, I’d like to write about the way the movie portrays the _Carpe Diem_. It appears on several scenes and it’s in tune with the way it’s portrayed in literature.”

“How about the _Collige Virgo Rosas_?” he asked. “It appears on several scenes too.”

Sansa bit her lip, hesitant.

“I… I have mixed feeling about this motif,” she admitted finally.

“Oh.” He looked surprised. “I’m curious. What don’t you like about it?”

“Well, this is probably very subjective, but I feel like there’s something distressing in it, a sense of urgency that I don’t like.” She paused, gauging his reaction. Mr. Baelish smiled and nodded his head, encouraging her to go on. “In a way, both the _Carpe Diem_ and the _Collige Virgo Rosas_ exhort the audience to seize the moment, but the _Carpe Diem_ transmits optimism, at least I perceive it this way, whereas the _Collige Virgo Rosas_ urges young women to seize the moment before their youth passes, and there’s a connection between youth a beauty that I don’t like. I don’t know.” She shrugged wondering if she’d said too much.

There was a gentle look on his face.

“First of all, Literature is subjective, and the way it makes you feel matters as much as the theorical aspects you’ve learnt. And secondly,” he lowered his voice as if he were about to tell her a secret. “I agree.”

“You agree?” She looked at him surprised.

“Yes. Beauty doesn’t vanish as you grow older, and seizing the moment means different things depending on the person. Everyone should be able to grow at their own pace.”

It felt good to hear him say those words aloud. When she was younger, sometimes she’d felt a little out of place. She’d never had a boyfriend. In high school, she’d felt attracted to a guy and they’d almost gone on a date, but she’d found out that he was awful.

A smile crossed her lips, and his eyes lit up when he saw it.

“Thank you, Mr. Baelish. It’s nice to hear that you think the same thing,” she confessed.

Something stirred behind his eyes then, and his irises turned darker, like the color of the hawthorn leaves during a storm. She almost felt like there was a gust of wind beneath his gaze and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't break eye contact.

 _I'm lost_ , she thought, and the realization made her feel scared and excited at the same time.

_Oh, Gods._

He licked his lips as if he weren't sure about what he was about to do, and she sensed his inner struggle, saw his pupils dilating slightly. 

His voice dropped an octave when he finally said:

“Please, call me Petyr.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter :-) I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading!

He was still staring into her eyes, his lips slightly parted. The air was thick. Sansa was holding her breath, but she wasn’t aware of that.

Mr. Baelish. He’d asked her to call him by his first name, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Part of her believed that she would cross a line if she said it aloud, that things were moving too fast between them. But deep down, she wanted to cross that line; she wanted this (whatever it was) to keep progressing. 

_He was your mom's friend_ , a voice inside her head reminded her.

But she wanted to get to know him. She felt a strong pull towards him, and she didn’t know why. 

_Petyr_. She said his name in her mind, a little hesitant, and she felt as if the wings of a bird grazed at her abdomen. She opened her mouth and breathed out, surprised by her body’s reaction. 

Something flickered in his eyes. A hint of understanding, and sadness, as if he thought he’d overstepped the boundaries. She saw him put his mask on, and those emotions vanished into thin air. He was Mr. Baelish again; the stranger that she ran into in the corridors. He wished he could take back his words, she could tell.

He was wrong. Sansa wanted to tell him. _You’re wrong, Petyr_. She wanted to say his name aloud.

 _Do it. Don’t remain quiet_ , the part that wanted to cross the line urged her. She swallowed. 

Mr. Baelish averted his gaze from her and cleared his throat, and Sansa knew that he was about to change the subject, that he was about to pretend this hadn’t happened. He was convinced that he’d made a mistake. 

He made as if to speak, his eyes fixed on his cup of coffee, but Sansa needed to clear up the misunderstanding.

“Petyr,” the word spilled out of her mouth, louder than she’d intended.

He sucked in a breath and froze. 

Sansa waited for him to lift his gaze, but he didn’t. He was still stuck behind a wall. How could she reach out to him? She felt the urge to touch his arm, but perhaps he didn’t want her to do so. She leaned forward slowly and repeated his name, lower this time, and her voice sounded more confident.

“Petyr.”

His eyes were still fixed on his cup of coffee, but she saw him swallow slightly, a reaction that made her feel relieved. The word was seeping into his mind. He looked conflicted though.

Sansa realized that he’d allowed his impulse to take over when he’d told her to call him Petyr. Now he seemed determined to keep his emotions under control. 

He needed some time to clear his mind. Sansa leaned back in her chair and waited. 

She took a sip of her coffee and looked around. Two people had risen from their seats and were gathering their things together. Sansa checked her watch and was surprised to see that almost twenty minutes had passed since they’d walked into the university café. Time had gone by too fast. Soon they’d have to go back to the assembly hall. She wished they could stay longer.

“Do you feel comfortable saying my first name?” He interrupted her thoughts.

Sansa returned her attention to him. His eyes were gentle now. She was going to answer when he continued:

“You can keep calling me Mr. Baelish.” His voice sounded surprisingly soft. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“But I want to,” she assured him. “I didn’t react at first because it took me by surprise.”

“I understand.” He looked as if going to add something else, but paused. A cautious expression crossed his face and then, he smiled and motioned to his half of the cookie. “You know, I’ve been working at this university for years and I have never tried the lemon biscuits.”

So he wanted to make small talk now. Sansa was fine with it. She smiled too. 

“It’s my favorite pastry,” she told him. “Some days there’s also lemon buttermilk cake. It’s delicious too. The taste reminds me of the birthday cake my mother made me when I was a child.” She should probably tell him who her mother was, but she felt like this wasn’t the right time. They’d have to leave in a few minutes, and they couldn’t talk during the movie. No, it definitely wasn’t the right time.

Petyr smiled again.

“I don’t usually eat sweet foods,” he said. “I prefer not too sweet treats.”

“Like dark chocolate.”

“Yeah.” He grabbed his half of the cookie and took a small bite. He closed his eyes for a moment. “It tastes of lemon zest.”

“Yes.” Sansa waited for him to say something else. She still didn’t know whether he liked it.

“It’s refreshing,” he continued and locked his eyes with hers. “I think this may quickly become one of my favorite treats.”

Sansa looked down at her half of the dark chocolate slim bar, hiding her smile. She was oblivious of the smug expression on his face. 

“Have you tried chocolate covered pomegranate seeds?” she asked as she broke off a chunk. It was less common than chocolate covered raspberries, but she liked it better. She raised her head again and noticed a flicker in his eyes.

“No,” he answered slowly. “Though I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about it before. Pomegranate is my favorite fruit.”

“Oh, then you should definitely try it.” She popped the chunk of chocolate in her mouth.

Petyr dropped his gaze to her mouth and the flicker in his eyes grow more intense. Sansa’s cheeks felt warmer; the chunk of chocolate melted by now.

His lips twitched.

“I’ll do.”

She swallowed.

“Good,” she said awkwardly. “That’s good.”

Petyr smiled as if very pleased with himself and grabbed his cup of coffee. He took a long sip, his eyes never leaving hers, his confidence returned, and Sansa felt the warmth in her cheeks spread down her neck.

Wait… did he know the effect he had on her?

She broke eye contact and wiped her mouth with the napkin, confused. If he knew, he wasn’t freaked out. And he didn’t seem just fine with it. He seemed… pleased. Even excited.

No, she must be reading him wrong, she told herself as she took a sip of her coffee with milk. But these words didn’t ease the fluttering sensation in her stomach.

Did he know that she had a crush on him? Could he read her like an open book? She gripped her cup of coffee a little harder. There was no way she could know for sure unless she asked him.

And she wasn’t going to ask him.

No way.

Sansa heard his voice then. 

“I hate to say this, but we should go back to the assembly hall soon.” His tone sounded cautious.

She set her cup of coffee down slowly and looked at him. She was surprised to see concern in his eyes, as if he feared he’d annoyed her. Of course, he must have sensed she’d gotten nervous, but she wasn’t annoyed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Sansa smiled reassuringly and said:

“Alright.”

They finished their snack in silence. Then they rose from their seats, and Petyr emptied the tray and stacked it. Sansa waited beside the table. When he returned, he watched her face, and she knew he was trying to read her, trying to determine whether she’d enjoyed having coffee with him. She decided to tell him.

“Thank you for inviting me, Petyr. I’ve enjoyed talking with you so much.”

His face lit up instantly.

“I’m glad,” he said.

She turned away and walked towards the door, and Petyr followed her.

He couldn’t see the grin on her face.

*

Everybody had already arrived when they stepped into the room. Petyr closed the door behind them, and Sansa walked towards her seat. She noticed some people were looking at her with curiosity, but she didn’t care. 

“Ready to watch the second half of the movie?” Petyr asked, breaking the silence. He turned off the lights and played the movie. Sansa saw him approach her afterwards. She gave him a smile before he sat next to her again.

Once he took his seat, Petyr reached into his pocket and handed her a chewing gum pack.

“Would you like a stick of chewing gum?” he asked in a low voice.

She nodded and leaned in to pull a piece out of the pack. She’d never been so close to him, and his proximity made her stomach flutter.

“Thank you,” she murmured meeting his eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” He kept eye contact for some seconds before pulling out a piece too. 

Sansa sat up straight and unwrapped her chewing gum. She put it in her mouth. It had an intense minty taste. It was _refreshing_. She smiled, remembering their conversation about sweet foods. She closed her eyes and started chewing it slowly when she heard him stir in his seat.

She opened her eyes and turned to him, and caught him watching her, but he quickly looked back at the screen, his composed facade slipping.

Sansa also directed her gaze at the screen, suppressing a smile. It felt good to see that she could also affect him.

*

When the movie ended, Petyr thanked them for attending and wished them a good weekend. The other people started leaving, but Sansa stood beside her seat. She told herself that she wanted to wish him a good weekend personally, but in truth she didn’t want to see him off just yet.

Petyr put the DVD in the case and turned off both the laptop and the projector. By the time he finished, everyone had left except Sansa.

He grabbed his suitcase and looked at her, a smile tugging at his lips. Sansa smiled too and came closer to him, but before she could speak, he said:

“I need to go to my office to leave the DVD and grab my coat. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Yes.” Her smile broadened. This was the perfect excuse to stay with him a little longer.

He seemed happy that she wanted to accompany him, though he didn’t say anything. He gestured for her to stepped out of the assembly hall first, and she did, the smile still on her face. 

The corridor was empty. Sansa glanced at the nearest window and saw it was dark outside. Behind her, she heard Petyr close the door and lock it.

“This way,” he said softly, motioning for her to follow him.

They walked along the corridor and went upstairs. Petyr asked her if she’d enjoyed the movie, and they were talking about it until they reached his office. He pulled out a key and opened the door. Sansa was going to ask him if he preferred her to wait here when he stepped aside and said:

“Please, come in.”

“Thank you.” Sansa crossed the threshold.

Her mouth opened in amazement. His office looked like a little cinema museum. The walls were covered by classic movie posters and photos of old theaters and actors in gala dinners. Soon a big display case caught her attention. Inside there was an object made from wood that looked like a vintage camera tripod. Sansa came closer, her eyes flickering with excitement.

“Is this a cinematograph?” 

“Yes,” he approached the glass cabinet too. “It’s from the late 19th century. I bought it at an auction some years ago.”

“Does it work?”

“Yes. I used it once out of curiosity, but I haven’t dared to do it again for fear of damaging it.”

“I understand.” She’d have liked to see how it worked, but she understood it was fragile. It was a museum piece.

“Though I could give you a demonstration someday, if you like.”

She turned to him, surprised by his offer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It will be fun.” His smile seemed genuine, and Sansa found herself smiling too.

“Thank you,” she said.

He tilted his head and lifted the DVD still in his hand.

“I’m going to put it on the shelf.”

“Alright.” Sansa moved away from the display case and looked at the posters and was pleasantly surprised to see some of her favorite movies there. _Jane Eyre. Rebecca. Dragonwyck._ He also seemed to have preference for the gothic romances. Another poster caught her attention. It showed four people in a boat, sailing on a lake. There was a mansion at the bottom. She didn’t recognize the movie, so she asked Petyr.

“It’s _The Villa Diodati_ ,” he said approaching her again. “It’s based on what happened at the Villa Diodati in the summer of 1816.

“Oh, I’ve read about it, but I didn’t know there was a movie,” Sansa replied.

In the summer of 1816 the eruption of a volcano had caused a torrential rain in several continents and hidden the sun. Lord Byron, Polidori, Mary and Percy Shelley had been reunited at The Villa Diodati, and they’d challenged themselves to write a work. Polidori had written _The Vampyre_ , considered the first modern vampire story, and Mary Shelley had written _Frankenstein._

“It’s not very popular,” Petyr said. “But it’s worth watching if you’re interested in the creative process in general and in the gothic literature.”

“I love gothic literature,” she told him. 

He smiled enigmatically then, and walked towards a shelf. He grabbed a movie and handed it to her.

“Here it is. You should watch it.”

Sansa looked down at the cover. _The Villa Diodati._ The picture was the same.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll watch it this weekend.”

A smirk crossed his lips. 

“I’m looking forward to hearing your thoughts on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a movie from 1988 inspired by the events at the Villa Diodati. The title is _Rowing with the Wind_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well :-)

Sansa put the movie in her bag, remembering her conversation with Jeyne this past Monday. Her friend had been right. Mr. Baelish (now Petyr) wanted to keep in touch with her. She could almost hear Jeyne’s voice saying triumphally “I told you!”

She bit back a smile and gestured to the Dragonwyck movie poster in front of her. She was pleasantly surprised that Petyr had picked it to decorate his office. This was one of her favorite movies of all time, but it wasn’t very well-known.

“You seem a fan of movies with gothic elements,” she said.

Petyr turned around to see the poster.

“Yeah, I don’t know what these stories have that always draw me in. There’s something alluring in those settings: a castle or a mansion located in a remote place. A moor, a wild forest, a cliff. There might also be creepy sculptures, or a moss-covered fountain, or a hidden door in ivy that leads to a garden no one knew of its existence.” Petyr turned to her again. A flicker of amusement flashed through his eyes when he added: “And of course, there must be always rumors that the place is haunted and that strange things happen at night or in the dark. Noises, shadows, objects moving on their own…”

Sansa laughed.

“Of course, I couldn’t see the appeal otherwise,” she joked. 

His smile broadened.

“Neither do I.”

A pleasant silence fell over the office. They kept staring at each other. Sansa was glad that she'd accompanied him to his office. It was very nice to talk with him about movies. Petyr wasn’t pretentious; he didn’t think his opinion was better than hers just because he taught Film and Literature. Sansa wondered how he taught his course. There was a hint of rebelliousness in him, she could sense it. Perhaps apart from talking about critically acclaimed movies, he also talked about blockbuster movies reviled by critics. She could almost picture him, the smug look on his face when he analyzed movies with one star on WMD (Westerosi Movie Database). 

Sansa would like to attend his course, but she knew this might set a barrier between them. Petyr had told her that he didn’t have coffee with his students, and also Sansa wasn’t certain if she would want to meet him outside of class. Well, of course she would want, but things would be so complicated if he were her professor. He would be biased for better or for worse. It wasn’t the same to grade a student you barely knew than a student you had an emotional bond with. Not to mention that he could lose his job. 

Petyr’s voice brought her back to the present:

“I’m going to grab my coat,” he said walking towards the hat rack.

“Alright.”

“May I accompany you to your car?” he asked her when they stepped out of his office. He locked the door and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Yes, thank you.”

The parking lot was in front of the building. In the mornings it was difficult to find a parking space, but now it was almost empty. The air was cold. Sansa saw him adjust his coat collar when the breeze fluttered his hair.

“My car is the green one,” she told him motioning to the car beside a streetlamp. The orangish light casted large shadows. 

“Mine is the black one,” he said. There were two parking spaces between their cars.

When they reached hers, Sansa turned to him. His hair was disheveled now. It gave him an untamed look, the look of someone who liked to thrive in chaos. Sansa felt the urge to run her hand through his temple. He tilted his head then, and their eyes met. She didn’t know whether it was the way his eyes reflected the dim light, but the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Petyr was looking at her as if he knew her deepest desires, and she wanted to avert her eyes and kept holding his gaze all at once. She wanted to come closer to him even thought she was standing only a few inches away from him; if she took a step forward, her chest would brush against his.

It was Petyr who broke eye contact. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a mini notebook and a pen. 

“I’d like to give you my number. This way it will be easier for you to reach me, if you want to.” He removed a page and wrote down his phone number. 

Sansa watched him write, glad that this idea had occurred to him. She’d have ended up giving her number to him, but it would have probably taken a few encounters more. Now she wouldn’t have to wait until she ran into him in the corridors to talk with him again. They could agree to meet for coffee, or to make any other plan. 

When Petyr finished, he lifted his head and handed her the paper, and he must see something on her face that made his lips curve upwards. 

“Thank you.” Sansa grabbed the paper and put it in her bag. 

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, but didn’t lower his arm. He was offering her his hand, and Sansa took it.

Despite the cold weather, his skin was warm. Petyr brushed the back of her hand with his thumb, his eyes fixed on hers, and she shivered; his touch sending a tingling sensation through her shoulders.

Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Petyr looked hesitant for a moment, as if he wanted to do something, but were holding back. Sansa wished she could know what he was thinking. He was looking at her as if her expression could give him a clue to decide what to do. 

Sansa looked down at their hands intertwined when he squeezed hers gently. She wanted to brush his knuckles with her fingertips, but she didn’t. 

Petyr breathed out. It sounded as if trying to pull himself together. 

Sansa lifted her gaze to meet his eyes once more. Slowly, he let go of her hand and said in a husky voice:

“Good night, Sansa.”

She lowered her arm. The way he’d said her name made her feel special. 

“Good night, Petyr.”

He waited for her to start the car before walking towards his car. Sansa waved goodbye to him as she left the parking lot.

*

Sansa lived in a one-room flat, 15-minute ride from the University. 

She checked her phone when she entered her flat and saw that Jeyne had written her:

_How it went? He approached u during the break, didn’t he ;)_

Sansa grinned, knowing Jeyne would be thrilled when she read her reply:

_He sat next to me during the movie and we had coffee together._

_What???_ Jeyne’s message popped up on her screen two seconds later. And another one: _Tell me more!!!_

Sansa let out a laugh, but instead of giving her more details, she wrote:

_Why don’t you come over to my place? We shall have a night cozy party._

Jeyne lived with her aunt and her cousin, 10-minute ride form her flat.

_Yasss! I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Make popcorn! xoxo_

Sansa laughed again.

_Done. xoxo_

*

They were sat on the sofa. There was a bowl of popcorn on the side table. 

“Omg I knew he was interested in you, but I didn’t expect him to give you his number already!” Jeyne exclaimed very excited. 

Sansa blushed.

“Well, I didn’t expect him to give me his number too soon either. But it’s not what you think.”

“Sure. He’s given you his number just in case you couldn’t find him to return the movie to him. This was his only goal,” Jeyne said trying to keep a straight face.

Sansa throwed a cushion at her, and they both burst into laughter. 

“You’re a lucky girl,” Jeyne sighed contented when they calmed again. “The man knows how to take initiative. And he seems gentle.”

“He is.” Sansa thought of their conversation about the _Collige Virgo Rosas_ , and when he told her she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want. She also remembered the way he’d held her hand. He seemed willing to respect her pace.

“You must write him!”

“I’ll do.” Sansa smiled. “I’m thinking of sending him a message when I watch the movie.”

“Yes, yes. You should totally do it!”

Jeyne’s enthusiasm was infectious. Sansa’s smile broadened.

“I’m glad you are here,” she told her friend.

Jeyne hugged her.

“I’m also glad to be here, Sans.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff :-)

Sansa watched the movie on Saturday afternoon. When the closing credits began to scroll, she glanced down at her phone, on the side table.

She’d been resisting the urge to write him all day. She’d kept her mind busy, with her homework and the middle grade novel that a publishing house had sent her a couple of days ago.

Sansa had been a professional reader for children’s book publishers for two years: picture books, comics, novels, poetry… The job seemed too good to be true. She loved children’s literature and she made enough money to live on her own.

She reached out and grabbed her phone. She started typing out a message:

_Hi, this is Sansa. I hope you’re having a good weekend. Just wanted to let you know that I’ve just finished The Villa Diodati and loved it. Thanks for lending me the movie._

She paused. Should she add a smiley face? She was used to adding symbols or emojis to her text messages when talking with her family or friends, but Petyr didn’t fit into one of those categories yet.

She reread her message. She came across as cold and distant.

Perhaps, the problem was that this wasn’t her. She was holding back, but why? For fear of disappointing him? She needed to be herself. She _wanted_ to be herself. And if at some point they realized the connection they’d felt wasn’t real, then at least she wouldn’t regret pretending to be someone else. 

She rewrote her message and added a smiley face:

_Hi, this is Sansa. I hope you’re having a good weekend! Just wanted to let you know that I’ve just finished The Villa Diodati and loved it. Perhaps I should have waited until it got dark, so the atmosphere was even more mysterious and gloomy haha. Thanks for lending me the movie. I’d love to discuss it with you, if you like :)_

She pushed the “send” button and placed her phone on the side table. 

Now she’d take a shower and continue reading the middle grade novel. She wouldn’t check her phone until she finished at least two chapters she decided as she put the DVD in the case and turned off the TV. But then, her phone buzzed, and her resolve failed.

She grabbed her phone again and read his name on her screen. 

_Petyr_

A tickle traveled up her stomach. She opened his message.

_Petyr  
I’m glad you loved it, Sansa. Now you should recommend me a movie ;)_

Her lips curved upwards when she saw the wink smiley face. She glanced at her movie shelves, her mind already working to come up with a title to his liking. It was challenging; Petyr would have probably watched many more movies than her. But Sansa was willing to accept the challenge.

It would be fun.

Petyr was still typing so she waited until another message popped up on her screen.

_Petyr  
Though it seems a little unfair that you have to pick a movie without knowing my preferences (save for movies with gothic elements), so I suggest we play a little game._

A game? Interesting.

_Sansa  
You got me intrigued :)_

Her screen showed that Petyr was typing:

_Petyr  
It’s quite easy, actually. You can ask me 3 questions to help you pick the movie. But you must follow 3 rules:  
1) You can’t ask questions about movies.  
2) You can’t ask me about my favorite genres.  
3) You must choose 2 yes/no questions and 1 open-ended question._

He didn’t want to make things easy. Sansa let out a light laugh and typed:

_Sansa  
Okay, I’ll play by your rules. Just give me some time to come up with my questions._

She sent him another message:

_Sansa  
Please_

_Petyr  
Since you ask so nicely ;) Though we could keep talking for a little while._

_Tease_ , she thought. Her cheeks began to hurt, and she realized that she was smiling wide. She decided to tease him back.

_Sansa  
With one condition._

_Petyr  
Whatever you want._

She could almost hear his voice, a little raspy, a little too intense. _Whatever you want._ She was certain that his choice of words wasn’t casual. She pictured his smirk, the hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. 

_Sansa  
You cannot use this conversation to distract me and make me pick the wrong movie._

_Petyr  
You wound me. I’d never do such a thing._

She laughed. 

_Sansa  
Okay. I trust you. What would you like to talk about?_

_Petyr  
What kind of music do you like?_

_Sansa  
I don’t have a favorite type of music. I love dancing so I usually listen to upbeat songs. But I also love folk songs, and indie music in general. How about you?_

_Petyr  
My favorite songs are those that evoke a strong emotion in me. I don’t have a favorite style either, though I usually choose a genre depending on what I’m doing in that particular moment e.g. I like listening to baroque pop songs while driving._

She also loved baroque pop songs. She was going to tell him when he sent her another message:

_Petyr  
I’m curious. You said you dance to upbeat songs. Do you also slow dance?_

Sansa paused before typing out a response. She loved slow dancing, but she hadn’t had many opportunities to do so. She’d slow danced with Robb and her father at the weddings, but neither of them really enjoyed dancing. 

_Sansa  
I’ve only slow dance with my brother and my father at weddings. So far, I haven’t met any boy my age that liked slow dancing._

_Petyr  
Young boys are usually embarrassed to slow dance. If they ever have to, they just want to get over with it. Such a pity. They miss out a lot of fun. Slow dancing should never be stressing. It’s about connection, and freedom. About creating a sense of harmony. You mustn’t think. You just have to feel the music and listen to what your partner’s body is telling you._

_Sansa  
That sounds beautiful. I wish I could experience that. The connection and the freedom, and the harmony._

_Petyr  
I volunteer. You just have to say the words._

She pictured herself dancing with Petyr. His upper torso almost brushing against hers, his arm around her waist, his hand holding hers, like an embrace. 

_Sansa  
I’d love to. But bear in mind that I have very little experience._

He texted back almost instantly:

_Petyr  
Don’t worry about that. You can practice with me. I’ll make it enjoyable, I promise._

She couldn’t help it. When she read his last sentence, other activities he could also make enjoyable came to her mind, and a wave of red crept up her cheeks. Surely he hadn’t realized that his words might suggest another things, right?

_Sansa  
Okay, I’ll take up your offer :) _

_Petyr  
Perfect. What about tomorrow?_

_Sansa  
Tomorrow?_

_Petyr  
Yeah, why not. Unless you have other plans, of course. Do you know The White Birds? They usually play ballads on Sunday evenings._

The White Birds was a pub in the city center. The name was a homage to a poem by W. B. Yeats. Sansa had gone with Jeyne and other friends from university. There was live music every evening.

_Sansa  
I do. And tomorrow sounds good :)_

_Petyr  
I could pick you up at 7, if you like. I’ll drive you home afterwards._

_Sansa  
Great :)_

_Petyr  
I’m tempted to ask you to give me your movie recommendation tomorrow._

She grinned.

_Sansa  
I though you were a patient man, Mr. Baelish._

_Petyr  
For you, I’ll be._

Sansa didn't know what to say. She knew he was still in a playful mood, but she sensed that his words were sincere.

Another message popped up on her screen:

_Petyr  
Good night, Sansa. Looking forward to tomorrow._

She smiled.

_Sansa  
Good night, Petyr. I’m also looking forward to._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter (the pub scene) will be longer so it will probably take me a few days to post it. Thank you so much for the amazing feedback you've left so far. It means a lot :-)

**Sunday**

Sansa chose her favorite autumn dress: a garnet long sleeve dress. The fabric was soft like bird feathers, and it was warm too. She also put on a pair of tights and flat boots.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She’d washed her hair in the morning and let it dry naturally. She’d combed it using only her fingers, getting soft waves as a result. Sansa always felt more comfortable wearing her hair loose. Ponytails and tight buns usually gave her a headache. 

Her phone buzzed. Sansa glanced at her alarm clock. It read 7:00. Petyr was punctual. She grabbed her phone, a small smile tugging at her lips.

_Petyr  
Hi. I’m in front of your house._

She was ready. She just had to grab her purse and her coat.

_Sansa  
I’ll be right down :)_

*

Petyr was standing beside his car. The night had fallen an hour ago, and an orangish light illuminated the streets. He was wearing a black suit jacket over a gray sweater, and dark jeans. He looked even more handsome than at the university, she thought. It might be his casual elegant style, but Sansa believed that it had more to do the mix of confidence and mystery his body emitted.

She still couldn’t believe that she was going to a pub with him. She hadn’t wanted to give this (this plan, the relationship they were building) a name. Tonight, she was determined to have fun, to let things flow.

Petyr made eye contact as soon as she stepped out of the entrance hall, and the corners of his mouth curled into a small smile. Sansa smiled too. As she approached him, she saw him glance down her body, though he quickly met her eyes again. Sansa didn’t feel uneasy. It was truth that she’d chosen her outfit and her hair style thinking of herself (the dress and her hair loose made her feel cozy), but she also wanted him to find her pretty. 

Petyr held out his hand when she stood in front of him.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.” Sansa took his hand. She could perceive a subtle, lightweight fragrance; herbal notes with a hint of peppermint. She liked it.

Petyr brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. His action took her off guard. It seemed the kind of thing that a lord or a knight would do to greet a lady. She pictured him with a waistcoat over a white shirt and a frock coat, and wondered how the words “my lady” would sound in his lips. 

“You look so beautiful,” he said, and there was a hint of reverence in his voice.

She averted her gaze, blushing.

“Thank you.” _Now it’s your turn. Tell him that he looks very handsome._ She turned to him again. “You look great too. Uhm… nice jacket.”

 _Nice jacket?_ That was all she’d been able to come up with? She wanted to groan in frustration.

Petyr chuckled lightly. He didn’t seem bother at all.

“I’ll wear it more often, then.” He gently placed a hand on her back and opened the car door for her.

“Thank you,” she said, still a little embarrassed. She’d have to get better at complimenting his appearance.

The inside of his car smelled of his cologne. Sansa turned her head and saw his coat was placed on the backseat.

Petyr sat down at the wheel and started the car.

“Shall I put some music on?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

Petyr turned on the radio. A cover of Daft Punk's _Get Lucky_ started playing. Sansa recognized the artist. It was Daughter. The volume was low, so they didn’t need to speak loudly.

“I didn’t know Daughter had recorded a cover of Get Lucky,” she said.

“This is one of my favorites,” he told her. “I like the atmosphere she creates in this song; it’s quiet, and melancholic, and deep. She paints a picture very different from the original.”

“She does.” Sansa agreed.

“Do you like it?” His tone sounded soft.

“Yes. I don’t know which one I like better, but both are so good. I guess they are versions for different occasions.” 

Petyr saw she was trying to suppress a grin and asked:

“What’s so funny?” His eyes shone with amusement.

“I was remembering my Zumba classes.”

“Oh, you do Zumba?”

“I did three years ago. With my friend Jeyne,” Sansa explained. “Our instructor loved that song, so he played it on the stereo most days.” She didn’t bite back a grin any longer. 

Petyr glanced at her for a second, and returned his gaze to the road.

“You seem to have very fond memories of those classes,” he commented. “Why did you quit?”

“It was so much fun, but we’ve had a busier schedule since then. Our studies and jobs make it hard to keep going to the gym, specially considering that we wanted to go together.”

“What do you do for a living?” 

“I work as a professional reader for several children’s book publishers,” Sansa told him. “I love children’s literature. When I was a kid, I read a lot, so my mother soon took me to the library to get my own card.” She smiled to herself before going on: “I remember the librarian made me feel so important and special. Mrs. Riggs. She was kind and enthusiastic, and was always very interested in hearing my opinions about the books I read. She also gave me recommendations when I asked her. As the years passed, we became friends. When I was a teenager, she helped me choose books for my younger brothers. She still works at the children’s section. I visit her whenever I go to Winterfell. It’s also my home, that library.”

“That’s beautiful,” he said, his tone quiet. His eyes were still fixed on the road. He paused for a moment before adding: “I also loved going to the library when I was a kid, but the librarian was the opposite of Mrs. Riggs. All the kids were afraid of her. She looked more like a guardian dog, ready to jump on anyone who broke the silence, no matter if they were just whispering. Every time a kid stepped into the room, she would tell them to show her their hands. _I know you’ve been eating chocolate bars and all kind of junk food before coming here_ ,” Petyr imitated the librarian's voice, and Sansa laughed. He seemed very pleased to hear her laughter.

“You’ve just sound like Miss Trunchbull,” she said when she calmed.

He caught that reference.

“Do you like Roald Dahl?” he asked.

“Yes, he’s one of my favorite authors,” Sansa told him.

“He’s one of my favorite authors too. I love his intelligence and humor.”

“Have you watched the movies based on his books?” she asked him then.

A smirk crossed his face.

“Why? Is this a question for our little game?”

Sansa let out a laugh and resisted the urge to give him a playful tap on the shoulder.

“No, Petyr. I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Uhm. I’m not convinced,” he feigned a pensive look.

“Petyr!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll take your word for it. I’ve watched _Matilda_ , _The Witches_ and _James and the Giant Peach_. But now that I’ve told you this, you cannot recommend me _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ or _Fantastic Mr. Fox_ .”

“You wound me.” She repeated the words he’d used in his text message yesterday. “Do you think I’m so predictable?”

Petyr chuckled, and she loved the sound of it.

“Of course not, sweetling.”

Sweetling? He’d never used this word to address her before. The word and the tone he’d used made her feel warm inside. Sansa wanted him to say it again.

A pleasant silence settled over them. She turned her head to the road and saw they were about to arrive. The song _Helvegen_ , sang by Waldruna and Aurora started playing.

Sansa closed her eyes. She couldn’t understand the lyrics, but the melody and the voices were so beautiful.

“Do you like it?” Petyr murmured beside her.

“Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

The temperature had fallen a few degrees when they got out of the car. Petyr put on his coat. He’d parked in front of the pub.

There was a lamppost near the entrance, illuminating the planked wood sign. Yellow letters on a dark green background:

**The**

**White Birds**

**Pub**

**Est. 1882**

“Shall we?” Petyr asked beside her.

Sansa nodded and followed him into the pub.

The pub was pleasantly warm; a faint smell of alcohol mixed with a fruity scent lingered in the air. The place wasn’t crowded; only about half of the tables were taken. The murmur of voices filled the place.

Sansa looked at the stage. There were five musicians: two guitarists, a harpist, a flutist and a violinist. The harpist had risen to her feet and was talking with one of the guitarists. 

“I bet it will be packed within an hour,” Petyr told her as they approached the counter. There were black and white pictures on the walls. All of them were photos of the 19th Century. Pictures of men with a glass of whiskey or a beer jar or holding a cigar. Some of them were playing cards or reading a newspaper. Sansa stared at a picture of a man with spectacles. He was writing with a fountain pen. There was a stack of papers next to his glass. A writer. Sansa watched his face, but she didn’t recognize him. The caption only indicated the photo date taken. 

“What would you like to drink?” Petyr’s voice brough her back to the present.

Sansa turned to him. He was leaning against the counter, and there was a soft smile upon his lips. Sansa resisted the urge to cup his cheek and run her hand through his left temple. Instead, she opened her purse.

“This round is on me Petyr.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll have a black beer.”

Sansa pulled out her wallet and looked at the waiter.

“Two black beers, please.” 

The waiter nodded.

“Right away,” he said.

Sansa turned back to Petyr.

“Do you come here often?” 

“This is one of my favorite pubs,” he answered. “I usually come here once a week. Do you know The Bear and the Maiden Fair radio program?”

Sansa straightened when she heard his question, aware that this might be the right time to tell him that she was Catelyn’s daughter. She decided to let him talk (she wanted to know where he was going with this), so she just nodded.

“I collaborate with this radio program,” he continued. “I’m one of the guests, and after the broadcast, some collaborators and staff members go to a pub.”

“Two black beers,” the waiter said placing the jars in front of them.

“Thank you.” Sansa paid for the beers and stuffed her wallet back in her purse.

Petyr grabbed the jars, and they picked a table far from the stage, so when the musicians started played, the music didn’t muffle their voices.

He set the jars down on the table, and they took off their coats and put their coats on the back of their chairs. Petyr raised his jar and softly collided it with hers.

“Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers.” She lifted her jar to her lips.

Petyr also took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers. Sansa set her jar down on the table and grabbed a napkin, but didn’t wipe her mouth.

She’d decided that the best was to tell him now, to clarify this. She knew there was a chance that Petyr didn’t want to hang out with her when he learned that she was Catelyn’s daughter, but Sansa didn’t want to keep hiding this information from him. She felt guilty. She met his eyes again. Petyr looked relaxed. He was leaning back in his chair, and his torso was slightly sagged to the right.

“I often listened to that radio program when I lived in Winterfell,” she began. She’d mentioned Winterfell when she’d talked about Mrs. Riggs, the librarian. She hadn’t done it to see his reaction; the word had just slipped out of her mouth, and she hadn’t been aware of that until later, when listening to the _Helvegen_ song. Then she’d tried to remember his expression when she’d said that word, but she hadn’t been able to recall anything special. If the word Winterfell had caused an emotional response in him, he’d hidden it very well.

“Then, you must have listened to me,” he said before taking another sip of his jar.

“I did.” Sansa kept eye contact. His expression hadn’t changed. She didn’t know whether he’d already guessed what she was trying to tell him and was masking his emotions, so it was easy for her to continue. She took a deep breath. “I recognize you at the university library, when we were searching for the same book.”

“ _Collige Virgo Rosas and Other Literary Motifs in Westerosi Literature_ , by S. Tarly,” he said.

Sansa let out a small sigh of relief when she noticed a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He leaned forward and went on:

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother. Some well-known people don’t want to be recognized, and that’s totally respectable.”

For the first time since they’d sat at the table, Petyr smiled. It was a sincere gesture, one that sought to reassure her. 

“You wouldn’t have bothered me. Not at all.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

He leaned closer, and his voice sounded a little husky:

“Go on.”

Sansa breathed out; her grip tightened on the napkin.

“My mother told me about you.”

His expression didn’t change, and Sansa knew then that he’d known all this time, or at least that he’d been suspecting this.

“Your mother?” he asked.

“Catelyn,” she blurted out. “You went to high school together.”

“I remember her.” He leaned back in his chair and grabbed his jar, but didn’t raise it. He watched her face in silence for several seconds, before saying: “I haven’t spoken to her since over 20 years ago.”

“I know. She told me about the fight. She didn’t tell me what happened, only that you ended up in hospital, in a serious condition, and that you moved to Dorne afterwards because you’d been admitted to the university to study Film and Literature.”

He nodded.

“Our paths took a different route,” he said, and this time, he raised his jar and took a sip. 

Sansa watched him drink. Petyr didn’t seem willing to elaborate further. His memories must be painful. He wasn’t ready to tell her everything just yet, and she understood that.

She dropped her gaze to stare at the napkin in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Petyr, I should have told you before.” Was he disappointed in her? Perhaps he wanted to leave now, and she wouldn’t blame him, but she needed to tell him something first: “I want you to know that I remained quiet because I didn’t know how to approach this subject. My intention wasn’t bad. I was waiting for the right moment, but at the same time I was afraid. I enjoy talking with you so much. I…”

“Hey, hey.” Petyr placed his hand over hers. She held her breath, not daring to move. His hand was a little cold from the air of the night and the mug handle, but Sansa didn’t want him to pull it away. “Sansa, look at me. Please.”

She did slowly. Petyr’s eyes were gentle, and his lips curled into a soft smile when she met his eyes.

“It’s alright, Sansa. I’ve also been wanting to ask you if you were her daughter. I couldn’t know for sure. I confess I’ve been wondering since I first saw you at the university.” His smile widened when he added: “We’ve been running into each other for four years.”

Sansa let out a shaky laugh.

“You also noticed?” She remembered her conversation with Jeyne the first time her friend caught her looking at Petyr in the corridor.”

“Of course, I did.” He laughed too. “Sometimes you go with another girl.”

“Jeyne. She’s my best friend.”

“The girl you went to the Zumba classes with.”

“Yes.” Sansa smiled. She felt lighter now. 

Petyr glanced down at their hands before looking her in the eye.

“Does it bother you that I was your mother’s friend?” he asked finally, his voice soft.

“No,” she said, and it was truth. “I don’t know if you had a romantic relationship, but it belongs in the past.”

He sighed before explaining:

“I was in love with your mother, but we never went on a date. She was dating Brandon. We fought, Brandon and I. I’d prefer not to go into detail, at least not now.”

Sansa nodded.

“I understand,” she said softly. She paused before adding: “Brandon was my uncle.”

Petyr furrowed his brow.

“Your uncle?”

“I didn’t get to know him. He died before I was born. I’m Ned’s daughter.”

“I see,” he murmured.

“Does it bother you that I know this part of your past?” It was her turn to ask.

“No,” he answered quickly, bringing a smile to Sansa’s face.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay,” he repeated, and exhaled. 

Sansa realized then that Petyr must have been fearing that she would not be okay with this; that she wouldn’t want to keep in touch with him.

“I’m glad we’ve talked about this,” she told him.

His fingers closed around the back of her hand gently.

“Me too.”

The sound of a violin filled the room. Petyr and Sansa turned their heads to the stage. One of the guitarists had grabbed her microphone:

“We’re starting our next round of songs. For the next our, we’ll perform music without a break. Enjoy!”

Petyr turned back to Sansa. His face lit up.

“When finish our drinks, would you like to dance with me, sweetling?”

There it was. That word. _Sweetling._

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Petyr moved his hand away from hers and grabbed his jar. 

“Good, because I intend to keep my word,” he said, and a hint of amusement flashed through his eyes.

“Sorry?” Sansa didn’t know what he was referring to.

He raised his eyebrows, and there it was that playfulness that Sansa was beginning to love.

“I promised I’d make it enjoyable. What kind of man would I be if I broke my promise?”

Sansa laughed, heat rushing to her cheeks. Of course, he noticed, and his smile broadened until it reached his eyes. 

“So you’re determined to keep your promise,” she said as she lifted her jar to her lips.

Something flickered in his eyes. Something that caused a tickle in Sansa’s stomach.

“Oh, I am,” he said.

A smile crossed her face just before she took a sip. She placed her jar on the table, her hand still grabbing the handle.

“Good. I’ll let you know if you’ve managed to keep your promise when we leave the pub.” It was felt so good to tease him back.

“Is this a challenge, sweetling?” His voice sounded almost like a growl.

A shiver ran through her, but she managed to pretend an innocent tone:

“Who knows?”

He rested his hands on the table and tilted his head, smirking.

“Challenge accepted.”

The first song ended right after he whispered those words. Another melody filled the room. Sansa turned to the stage, recognizing it immediately.

“Aww this song is one of my favorites,” she said turning back to Petyr. “It’s wonderful that they’re playing it.”

His smirk was replaced by a soft expression.

“ _Passage West_ ,” he said. “It’s one of my favorites too.”

“I’ve sung it many times,” Sansa went on. “I love it so much. It’s so beautiful.” She had no words to express how many emotions this song evoked in her.

“You sing?” Petyr looked pleasantly surprised.

“Yes, well, I usually sing when I’m alone. While cleaning my flat, or taking a shower… Oh gods.” She covered her face, blushing. “Was this too much information?”

Petyr chuckled and took her hands gently to push them away from her face.

“Of course not, sweetling. I think it’s lovely.” He kissed her knuckles before releasing her hands. “I’d like to hear you singing. So much.”

“Well, I’m not used to have an audience,” she began. She watched his face and pictured herself singing for him. Her stomach fluttered, and she found herself wanting to do so. “Okay.”

“Really?” His face lit up.

“Yes. But not tonight. The next time we meet. I mean, the next time we meet outside of the university.” She added quickly. The picture of herself singing at his office came to her mind, and her blush grow more intense.

He chuckled.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m looking forward to.”

They finished their jars in silence. The last notes of a song were playing when he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. Sansa took it.

They came closer to the stage. There were several people dancing. Sansa’s heart was beating faster now. She smiled at Petyr when he turned to her. He was still holding her right hand, though there were several inches between them. He lifted his left hand and interlaced his fingers with hers slowly, staring into her eyes. Sansa sucked in a breath. She didn’t know why she felt this connection with him, but she realized there, in the center of the room, as the music grew lower, that she didn’t want to lose him. She was so relieved that he didn’t mind she was Cat’s daughter.

“Ready?” he whispered.

Sansa nodded and placed her left hand on his shoulder. 

“Good,” he said. His right hand moved to her lower back, slightly above her kidneys.

Sansa breathed out again. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she licked hers unconsciously. Petyr also lowered his gaze to her mouth. Something flickered behind his eyes, something that made him look vulnerable and honest. Sansa tried to read his emotions through his eyes, but she couldn’t.

Another song started. She thought he’d begin moving now, but he remained still. 

“Close your eyes,” he said. “And don’t think. Just lest the music soothe your mind. Let your body feel the rhythm, the cadence. There’s no wrong way to dance if you feel good.”

She closed her eyes. 

“Don’t force yourself to do anything. Just feel the music and my body embracing yours. I’m here. With you. And that’s what matters. This moment is just perfect.”

Sansa smiled with her eyes closed.

“Carpe diem,” she said.

She could hear his smile when he repeated those words. Her hand on his shoulder relaxed, and she began moving her feet slowly. Petyr followed her unhurriedly. 

“That’s it,” he whispered near her ear. “Perfect. You’re perfect, Sansa.”

She pulled herself closer to him instinctively. It felt natural. Her chest brushed against him. His right hand pressed on her lower back a little more firmly. Now it truly looked like an embrace. She felt the heat that his body emitted, and she forgot that she was supposed to feel the music. 

“Petyr.” She had trouble keeping the beat. Her feet stopped.

“Shhh it’s alright. I got you.” He leaned forward and touched her forehead with his. His breath caressed her face.

Sansa she kept her eyes shut, but she parted her lips. She was breathing harder than when she was just feeling the music.

“Are you alright?” Petyr asked then.

“Yes.” Her voice trembled. She didn’t want him to pull away.

“Come here,” he whispered pulling her even closer.

Sansa rested her face on the curve of his neck, and wondered if he could feel her heartbeats. Petyr stepped to the right, and she followed his lead.

“That’s it,” he said stepping back with his right foot. Sansa stepped forward. It was easy to follow his movements. Petyr wasn’t pushing her. “How are you feeling, sweetling?” He brought his left foot back, and she stepped forward.

“Good,” she said.

Petyr stepped to the right.

“I feel so lucky,” he said. “to be here dancing with you.”

“Me too.” She stepped backwards when he brought his right foot forward. She wasn’t thinking of her movements; her feet seemed to move of their own accord.

“Thank you for letting me share this moment with you.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you for letting me see you like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passage West by john Spillane is one of my favorite songs :-) There's also a beautiful version by Danú, and a version by John Spillane and Mick Flannery.
> 
> I didn't mention what song they were dancing to because I wanted everyone to imagine the song they liked :-) I imagined Robot Koch's Ninetsky. A while ago I found a wonderful Petyr/Sansa fanvid by _littleredfox with this song. The title is No One Knows :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well :-)
> 
> If you feel like reading a Petyr/Sansa oneshot set in a pub I highly recommend Night Out (from Writing Prompts) by petyrbaaaeeelish :-)

Sansa remained quiet, her face buried in his neck, her feet mirroring his. 

Forward  
To the left  
Backwards  
To the right

His scent (the smell of his shower gel, the leafy herbal tones and the peppermint) was soothing.

Petyr didn’t speak again. Perhaps he didn’t want to distract her with the sound of his voice. Soon the music became a distant sound. 

Forward  
To the left  
Backwards  
To the right  
Like dancing figurines from a music box

Their feet were still sliding across the floor a few seconds after the song ended; the last notes, vanished now, echoed in their minds, like the sound of the wind in the mountains. Petyr was the first to stop. Sansa followed him one last time (she stepped to the left with her left foot) and stood still. 

Petyr unclasped his fingers from hers, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he closed his hand around her wrist. His fingertips brushed against her skin, sending prickles up her arm. He placed her hand on his collarbone and began pulling away. Sansa lifted her head and stared into his eyes.

“How was it?” He asked softly. “Better than those slow dances at weddings?”

“Yes,” she said, no hint of doubt in her voice. It had been a completely different experience. Unlike her father or Robb, Petyr had danced with her because he wanted to, not because he’d felt obliged by circumstances and that showed. Sansa wondered when he’d learned to dance. She asked him:

“I don’t remember,” he answered with a small smile upon his lips. “I think I started dancing shortly after I learned how to walk. My first memories are with my mother. We have an old transistor radio that belonged to my grandfather. Some evenings, she would put a tape and we’d dance and dance until I began laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. Sometimes she’d pick me up and twirl around, and I’d spread my arms. I still remember the sensation. I felt like a bird flying in and out the clouds.” A hint of nostalgia flashed through his eyes, but his smile broadened. “I think that’s why I’ve never been embarrassed to dance. It has always been a part of my life and all my memories associated with dance are good. Dancing still brings some of the sensations I experienced when I was a child. The freedom, the excitement. My mother encouraged my imagination. Our little world turned into a universe where almost everything could happen. Most days felt like an adventure.”

“That’s awesome. I’m so glad you had a happy childhood.” Sansa wished she had known her mother. She seemed to have been a wonderful woman. “How was her name?”

“Alayne.”

“It’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” He kissed the palm of her hand, his fingers still around her wrist and met her eyes again. “Shall we return to our seats?”

Sansa nodded. Petyr released her hand, and they made their way back to the table.

Their empty jars were still there; they had some foam at the top, where their lips had touched the glass.

“What degree are you studying?” Petyr asked her when they sat down. Sansa felt surprised upon realizing that she hadn’t told him yet.

“Comparative Literature,” she answered. “I’m specializing in Westerosi Literature and English Literature.”

“I specialized in Westerosi Literature and English Literature from 16th to 19th Centuries and their movie adaptations,” he said. “Though in my course I teach an Introduction to History of Cinema. Griffith, Flaherty, Wiene, Eisenstein, Mankiewicz, L. Olivier, Hitchcock… And of course, I couldn’t forget Branagh’s adaptations of Shakespearean plays.”

“I’ve watched some of them. My favorite is _”_

“This is my favorite too,” he said. “Though in class I usually show _Henry V_ because I compare it with the Lawrence Olivier’s adaptation.” 

Lawrence Olivier was one of Jeyne's favorite actors. She’d made Sansa watch all his movies with her. Her friend often sighed and said things like: _Ah, Sansa, I wish I could travel to the Golden Age of Hollywood and work with him. Imagine wearing those long dress with ribbons and ties, and walking through those amazing mansions: climbing marble stairs, sleeping in a huge canopy bed… Doing romantic scenes with him… Ahhh…_

That picture was quite alluring, even though Sansa had never pictured herself as an actress. 

“Your course sounds amazing,” she told Petyr. “If circumstances were different, I’d have liked to attend.” 

Her words made him smile. 

“And I’d have loved to have you in my class,” he said. “But I cannot complain. I prefer to have the opportunity to get to know you.” 

She smiled back. 

"Me too," she admitted. 

“What are your favorite courses so far?” 

“Literary Tradition, Literature of the 19th and Fairy Tales.” She remembered what he’d said about dancing, how it brought back good memories, and added: “Fairy Tales are very special to me: when we were kids, my parents told us a fairy tale every night before bed. Though I’m interested in the other forms of traditional literature. Next semester, I’m going to study Westerosi Folktales. I’m looking forward to.” She paused, suppressing a grin, and lowered her voice as if she were about to tell him a secret: “I know most folktales are already recorded and analyzed, but I’d love to go to the smallest villages of Westeros with a voice recorder and ask the people over 90 if they’d like to tell me the stories they heard when they were kids. I have hope that I’ll find a new folktale, or a variant that hasn’t been analyzed yet.” 

A playful expression appeared on Petyr's face. He leaned over the table. 

“I’m afraid I’m not a 90-year-old man, sweetling, but perhaps I could help. I come from The Fingers, rocky peninsulas that reach out the Narrow Sea. When I was a child, my mother and some fishermen and sailors told me several tales. As far as I know, no folklorist has ever care to record those stories. There aren't any books about folktales from The Fingers.” 

“Really?” She knew where The Fingers was located and couldn’t believe that no one had showed interest in compiling their stories. Well, she was going to change that. She wanted to help preserve their traditional literature. 

“Yeah,” Petyr said with a satisfied expression. “I could be your first interviewee.” 

“Uhm… I don’t know,” she replied feigning a hesitant look. “Since you don’t fit that category…” 

He chuckled. 

“I knew you’d be totally disappointed.” 

“Oh, I am.” She smiled at him. 

“I have another surprise for you,” he said leaning back in his chair. “It’s not about tales, but it’s about folklore.” 

“Tell me.” This time, it was Sansa who leaned over the table. 

“I know the traditional dance of The Fingers,” he announced. “I could teach you, if you like. Unfortunately, the folk songs from the Fingers are not very popular, so I doubt the musicians have ever heard of them.” He glanced at the stage before looking back at her. “I shall sing a Capella, but the noise might be a distraction.” 

She was touched that he wanted to teach her the traditional dance from the place where he’d been raised, the place where he’d created many good memories. 

“We shall go outside,” Sansa suggested. 

“Alright. Would you like to start now?” 

“Yes.” 

They put on their coats and left the pub. They walked down the street and stopped in front of a lamppost. Petyr turned to her and rubbed his hands together to make them warmer. 

“My hands are a little cold,” he said, almost as if he were apologizing. 

“It’s alright, Petyr.” Sansa took his hands in hers and offered him a reassuring smile. “Show me how to perform that dance.” 

The corners of his mouth curved upwards. 

“Alright. This dance is faster than the one we’ve danced at the pub,” he said placing his right hand on her back. “Spread your legs a little. That’s it. Now, relax your arms. Bend your left leg slightly and step forward with your right foot.” He mirrored her moves. “Now place your left foot next to your right foot and shake your hips lightly. Like this.” He showed her as he raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly, and Sansa bit back laughter. “What? Isn’t this sexy?” he asked pretending to be shocked. 

Sansa couldn’t hold back any longer. The sound of her laughter filled the air as she tried to shake her hips just like he’d done so. 

“Perfect,” he praised her. “Now, it’s time to twirl.” He lifted his arm and led her into a turn. “That’s it. Now lift your left arm and rise onto your tiptoes. Very good. Move to the right. One, two, three, four, five. And now to the left. One, two, three. Stop. Now jump from one foot to the other. Like this. Repeat. Very good.” 

Sansa was still laughing, and of course he was totally aware of that, but he went on: 

"Now it’s time to twirl again. And again.” He chuckled when she stumbled and rested her weight on him. “I got you.” He grabbed her by the waist. 

Sansa tried to catch her breath. She placed her hands on his chest and looked him in the eye. Petyr had a bright, happy expression on his face. 

“You did it on purpose,” she said making great efforts not to laugh. 

“What?” he asked in an innocent tone. 

“Saying all those moves so fast that I had trouble keeping up.” 

A wicked expression flashed across his face. 

“It was fun,” he admitted. “But I had the feeling that you’d be a fast learner, and I wasn’t wrong.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and smiled fondly “Good so far?” 

“Oh, yes.” She knew she was risking getting stomach ache from laughing, but oh, it was worth it. 

“Then, I think it’s time I sing a Capella.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter can bring some comfort <3

They danced in the street until Sansa learned all the steps.

She didn’t remember how many times Petyr sang the song. Dozens, probably. However, she wouldn’t have minded to heard it more times. Sansa didn’t know the original song; she didn’t know if he’d adapted the tune to fit his vocal range, or if he couldn’t remember all of the words and was making up his own lyrics. What she knew was that his voice connected with her inner self, the place where her deepest desires, and dreams, and fears, and hopes lived. His voice felt like a caress, like a lullaby, like a rowboat rocking gently in a lake. I see you. I hear you. You are not alone.

Petyr didn’t sing every note the same (it would have been easier for him this way). He was telling a story that went beyond the lyrics. His voice grew warmer during certain parts, as if were talking about sunny days; the taste of pomegranate seeds while sitting on the grass; the flowers (daisies, primroses, tulips) caressing your legs as you twirl; kisses on the cheek; smiles that reached the eyes. Every time Petyr hit low tones, his voice sounded a little husky, and something in Sansa’s chest stirred. 

“Perfect,” he said the third time they finished the dance without making a mistake. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and said: “Now you’re ready to go to The Fingers during the Sea Day.”

“The Sea Day?” Her voice also sounded a little breathless. She was glad she was wearing comfy boots. Otherwise, her heels would hurt by now.

“It’s a Festival,” Petyr explained. “It’s celebrated the first day of Summer. Unfortunately, there are no sandy beaches in The Fingers, but people gather in the square and cook fresh fish and garlic roasted potatoes. There’s also a traditional dessert for that day, called the treasure trunk. It’s an individual sponge cake. People bake it for someone special and hide something inside, something they think that will make this special someone happy.”

That sounded beautiful. Sansa had read somewhere that people put coins in Christmas puddings in the Victorian Era. They couldn’t know who would get the piece of cake with the coin inside, so it was a surprise for everyone. But putting something in a cake knowing who was going to receive it give the whole thing a different meaning. 

“I’d love to try the treasure trunk,” she began. Petyr’s expression didn’t change. He was waiting for her to continue. “Would you lend me the recipe or it’s a secret?” 

He smiled then as if he were pleased that she’d asked.

“I have a better idea,” he said, and a hint of excitement flickered in his eyes. “We shall make a treasure trunk together. We wouldn’t be disrespecting the tradition for it’s an unwritten rule that people can only share the recipe with those they care about.”

_It’s an unwritten rule that people can only share the recipe with those they care about._

His words made her breath falter. 

“Petyr…” She didn’t know what to say. He cared about her. The thought entered her mind, but it sounded more like a question. 

Since their first encounter at the library, she’d been trying to convince herself that Petyr was just being nice, that their relationship wouldn’t get too deep, that they’d talk at the university from time to time and nothing more. 

She’d been trying not to believe in Jeyne’s words. Instead, she’d been making great efforts to quieten the part of herself that hoped her friend was true. Sansa would have accepted it if Petyr just wanted to have coffee at the university and exchange some words in the corridors, and lend her movies. She’d have accepted it because Petyr was kind and funny, and she felt safe around him. She wanted to keep him in her life.

But deep down, she knew that she’d have been hoping that her friend was right, and Petyr wanted more.

He was watching her face attentively, gauging her reaction. Sansa opened her mouth to speak, when he gave her a gentle smile and touched her shoulder.

“I understand if you think it’s too soon to come over to my place or if you prefer us to meet only in public places, Sansa. It’s alright. I want to share the recipe with you regardless.” His hand squeezed her shoulder gently, reassuringly. He added in a playful tone: “But I’ll only give it to you if you send me a pic of the treasure trunk when you make it.”

What? He’d read her wrong. He’d thought that she was hesitant about coming over to his place.

“Oh, no, Petyr, I’d love to come over to your place. I trust you. I wouldn’t have gotten in your car if I didn’t. Technically, that’s not a public place,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled lightly. He looked relieved.

“You’re right.” He tilted his head and looked her in the eye. His voice sounded softer when he asked: “You know you don’t have to say yes unless you’re totally sure, do you?”

“Yes, Petyr, don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “I didn’t answer at first because I didn’t know how to reply when you mentioned that people only shared the recipe with those they cared about…”

Something flickered in his gaze when he heard her words. His hand, placed on her shoulder, moved slightly and for a moment Sansa thought he was going to touch her face. But after a pause, his hand slid down to her elbow. He was brushing her arm just with her fingertips. Sansa parted her lips and breathed in. She didn’t want him to stop. She wondered if he knew how much she liked his touch.

“It’s the truth,” he assured her, his voice barely a whisper.

She swallowed. She still didn’t know how to reply, so she just nodded.

“Don’t give me the recipe,” she said instead. “I’ll write it down when we make the cake.”

When, not if. Sansa didn’t want this to be a far-off possibility. She wanted this to happen, and wanted to make sure that Petyr knew. 

His fingertips caressed the end of her sleeve and found her hand. He took it and shook it lightly.

“It’s a deal,” he said, a hint of playfulness flashing across his face.

She nodded.

“It’s a deal,” she repeated.

He let go of her hand. They remained silent. Sansa felt a faint tingling in her legs and on the soles but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

The sound of voices coming from the entrance to the pub broke the silence. They turned their heads and saw people leaving the pub. Petyr checked his watch.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said in disbelief. 

This was the closing time on Sundays.

“What? I thought it was much earlier.”

“Yeah. Time has gone by too fast,” he agreed. “But we can come back another time.”

“I’d like that.”

Petyr smile and touched her arm again.

“Let’s go back to the car.”

*

Sansa hadn’t realized how tired she was until she sat in the seat. The warmth and the rocking motion of the car were so relaxing that Sansa had to make a great effort not to close her eyes. She knew that if she did, she would fall asleep right away, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to keep talking with him.

Petyr’s eyes were fixed on the road. This time he hadn’t turned on the radio. Sansa shifted around in her seat and said:

“I’d like to ask you a question for the game, but I need to know first it it’s a valid question, so I have to ask you another question before. Gods it has sounded like a tongue twister, hasn’t it?” She giggled.

His mouth twitched.

“A little,” he admitted. “Go on, though I cannot assure you that I’ll be able to clear your doubt,” he added teasingly.

Sansa rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her, curving upwards.

“Alright. When you said that I couldn’t ask you about your favorite genres, you were only referring to movie genres, right?”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” he said, a wicked expression crossing his features. “Was I?”

“Petyr! Play fair.”

He chuckled.

“Okay, I was only referring to movie genres,” he conceded.

“Great. Then my question is valid. I’m going to ask you the only open-ended question you allow me. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“What is your favorite book genre when you need to distract yourself from reality, when you need a pick-me-up?”

He didn’t need to think about her question:

“Whodunit books. Agatha Christie, Conan Doyle, Chesterton, A. K. Green, E. Gaboriau, H. Cauvain, F. Hume… I love it when a good mystery keeps me engaged.”

“I love whodunit books too! And whodunit movies and shows, but I guess I cannot ask you about those.” She giggled.

“No.” He pressed his lips together to suppress a smirk. “You can’t, sweetling.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “I’ve gotten what I wanted.” She would look for a whodunit movie. She knew he also liked humor, so perhaps she could find a comedy mystery movie. “I’d like to save the other two questions for now.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head. “Then I’d like to ask you a question about whodunit shows.”

“Oh, aren’t you afraid that I use this conversation to my advantage, Petyr?” she asked in a playful tone.

This time, he smirked.

“I’ll take the risk.” He glanced at her before looking back at the road. “ _Have you ever watched Doctor Baker Mysteries?_ ”

“No. I had never heard of it.” 

“It’s a show from over a decade ago starring Eustace Crowlands,” he told her.

“Eustace Crowlands? I loved _The Wizard and Mrs. Hickson!_ ” This was a family movie from the 60s. He’d played the character of the wizard, one of the best loved characters of all time.

“I also loved _The Wizard and Mrs. Hickson,_ ” Petyr said. “His character was my favorite. I loved it when he danced. The choreographies were amazing. His feet moved so fast that sometimes it looked like his shoes weren’t touching the floor. 

"I also loved it when he danced."

"Then you'd like to know that he also danced in many episodes of this show. He was over 80 when the last episode was filmed, but he moved like a young man. That's something I admire of him. His vitality. His passion for life. You can see it in his eyes. It's inspiring.”

“I’d love to watch that show.”

“I have all of the seasons, and I was thinking about rewatching it. We shall watch it together.”

“Yes!"

“So we have to bake a treasure trunk and watch the eight seasons of _Doctor Baker Mysteries_ so far. Our chores are piling up,” he joked.

She laughed.

“We can watch the first episode after making the cake,” she suggested.

“That sounds perfect.”

*

Petyr walked her to the entrance hall. They stood still. After a pause, Petyr ran his hand trough his hair and said:

“This evening has been perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“Thank you,” she said emphasizing the last word. “I’ve had a great time.”

“I’m glad.”

“I still have to give you back the movie. Tomorrow my last class ends at 3 o’clock.”

“I finish at 2 o’clock but I usually stay at my office until 3 or 4 o’clock. You could come when you finish your class.”

“Okay.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face. 

Petyr broke eye contact for a moment to glance at her hair. His gaze met hers once more and he began to lean forward.

Sansa held her breath, wondering if he was going to kiss her. Did she wanted him to kiss her? Her own body seemed to answer this question. Her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly.

However, she didn’t feel his breath caressing her mouth. Instead, she felt it on her cheek, barely a few seconds before he pressed his lips there, below her right temple and near her earlobe. Sansa let out her breath slowly and opened her eyes as he pulled away. His eyes flickered when she made eye contact again.

“Good night, Sansa” he murmured. “Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Doctor Baker Mysteries and The Wizard and Mrs. Hickory are fictional titles. I was thinking of Dick Van Dyke when I created the character of Eustace Crowlands, and also of Mary Poppins and Diagnosis Murder.
> 
> Which scene are you looking forward to? The scene where Petyr and Sansa bake the treasure trunk or the scene where they start watching the show? Or both? :-)


	12. Chapter 12

Monday. University café.

“____ and he kissed me on the cheek,” Sansa finished.

She’d just told her friend about yesterday evening. She’d told Jeyne that she’d finally dared to confess Petyr that she was Catelyn’s daughter and that she knew her mother had been his friend in high school; that Petyr didn’t seem bothered by this fact; that they’d slow danced in the pub and it had been magical; that he’d told her some things about his birthplace and they’d left the pub so he could teach her to dance the traditional dance from The Fingers; that the hours had felt like seconds, dancing and laughing in the street, and the pub had closed before they could go back inside. But she hadn’t told Jeyne that Petyr had been in love with her mother. Sansa wasn’t annoyed with him (you couldn’t choose who you were attracted to), but she preferred not to think about this. She was relieved that he’d never dated her mother. 

“Awww he did that?” Jeyne rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “Omg where can I find a man like him? I’m not asking too much, I just want someone that also loves theater and can talk about plays and musicals for hours; and also enjoys dancing; and is a decent human being.”

Her friend had used a joking tone, but Sansa could sense the longing in her voice. She leaned over and touched her friend’s arm.

“You’ll find the right person. I’m certain.” 

Jeyne smiled.

“Thank you. I’m so happy for you, Sans. Truly.” She raised a finger and added, feigning a serious tone: “I hope he continues treating you well. Otherwise, I’ll have words with him.”

Sansa laughed.

“Hopefully, that won’t be necessary.”

“I agree,” Jeyne said. “Awww I’m just picturing the moment when he kissed you. This is the cutest thing you’ve ever told me.”

“I though he was going to kiss me on the mouth,” Sansa confessed. “Perhaps he just wants to be friends?

Last Friday, when they’d had coffee, she’d thought that Petyr wasn’t attracted to her, but yesterday, he’d looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Maybe he didn’t want to date her. Maybe he thought their age gap or his past were obstacles for a romantic relationship.

“I’m sure he wants to be more than friends,” Jeyne replied. “Perhaps your body language stopped him from trying to kiss you on the mouth.”

Sansa remembered her eyes had closed and her lips parted when Petyr had leaned forward.

“I don’t think so,” she told Jeyne.

“Then, maybe he’s waiting for you to make the next move. He invited you to the pub with him. He’s showed interest already. I think now it’s your turn to show him.”

Sansa mulled over her words. Perhaps Petyr was hesitant to make more advances for fear of scaring her away. Perhaps he wasn’t certain whether she wanted more than friendship. What if it was Petyr who believed that Sansa thought the age gap and his past were obstacles for a romantic relationship?

“You might be right,” she said finally. She paused before adding: “He told me about a traditional dessert from his birthplace and suggested baking it together. In his house.”

“That’s the perfect occasion for you to show him! When are you going over his house?”

“We haven’t decided it yet, but I’m going to his office after class to give him back the movie, so I’ll ask him if he’s available next Saturday.” 

“Yesss! Yes, awesome! I’ll call you tonight. I cannot wait to know what he says.” 

“Okay.” Sansa smiled at her friend and leaned back in her chair.

“Are you nervous? About going over his house, I mean.”

“A little,” Sansa confessed. “Yesterday evening was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. I… I guess I’m a little afraid that things go different the next time we meet.”

“Oh, Sans.” Jeyne took her hands and smiled. “You said you wouldn’t change a thing about yesterday evening, right?”

“Yes.”

“Not even the kiss on the cheek? Wouldn’t you replace it by a kiss on the mouth if you could?” 

Sansa shook her head. It had been sweet, feeling his lips on her face. She wouldn’t replace anything he’d done yesterday. 

Jeyne offered her another smile.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it.

“Judging by what you’ve told me, I think he also likes you, Sans. A lot. You have nothing to be nervous about. You love being around him, and he’s always respected your boundaries. If things get too steamy and you want to stop, just tell him. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Sansa nodded and returned her smile.

“Thank you. I trust him. I know he’d stop if I told him.” She breathed out. “Ahh, I don’t know why I’m nervous.”

“It’s normal, Sans. This is new for you. Trying new things may be a little scary sometimes. You’re afraid that things don’t go like you expect. It’s okay. Talk to him. Be honest with him, and everything will go alright.” She gave Sansa’s hands a gentle squeeze. 

“Thank you.” She felt better after talking with Jeyne. And her friend was right. She needed to be honest with Petyr.

*

“Come in.”

Petyr was sat behind his desk, grading papers. His eyes lit up when he saw her. He put his pen down and stood up. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Sansa said, closing the door behind her. 

Petyr was wearing a charcoal gray suit and a blue tie. The colors highlighted his gray-green eyes. He sat on his desk and rested his hands in his lap as she approached him. His right leg was swinging in the air slightly, but he stopped when Sansa stood in front of him. The corners of his mouth curved upwards as he stared at her, his gesture so subtle that it was almost unnoticeable.

But she noticed it. He was pleased to see her.

She pulled out the movie and handed it to him.

“Thanks for lending it to me. It’s become one of my favorites.”

He reached for the movie, brushing her thumb with his fingertips.

“You’re welcome.” He put it on the desk and looked back at her. “What did you like most?”

“The photography,” she answered. “And the music. And the scenes where they read aloud some fragments of their works and commented them.” She laughed. “I guess I cannot choose just one thing. What did you like most?”

“The music,” he said. “It was hauntingly beautiful. It transported you to another time, to another place.”

“I agree. My favorite song was _The Storm._ The piano really creates an ominous atmosphere. You’re almost expecting some supernatural creature to show up.”

“Like Frankenstein, or Polidori’s vampire,” Petyr said chuckling.

“Yes.” 

He brushed a lock of hair from her face, a smile upon his lips. Sansa wanted to close her eyes and lean into his touch, but she kept eye contact.

“How was your day?” he asked after resting his hand in his lap again.

“Fine.” She smiled. “I had lunch with Jeyne, like every Monday. I’ve told her about yesterday.”

“Oh. And what did she say?”

 _What does she think of me?_ Sansa knew this was what he really wanted to ask.

“She has a good opinion of you,” she told him. 

Petyr smiled.

“Then you must have told her good things about me.”

“I did. I really enjoyed going to The White Birds with you.” She bit her lip and remember her conversation with Jeyne. She wanted to be honest and tell him that she liked him, and that she wanted to date him, and also that she’d never had a boyfriend. But those words stuck in her throat. She swallowed and said instead: “I’ve been thinking about that sponge cake. The treasure trunk.” Her heart began pounding faster.

Petyr’s face lit up when he heard her words. He reached out and stroked a lock of her hair. 

“Go on,” he said softly.

Sansa breathed in.

“I’d really like you to show me the recipe, and I was wondering if you’d be available next Saturday.” 

He lifted his gaze from her hair and looked her in the eye, and Sansa saw his smile was bright.

“I could pick you up in the morning,” he said. “This way we could bake the treasure trunk before lunch and watch some episodes of _Doctor Baker Mysteries._ You could even teach me to dance Zumba, if you like.”

Sansa beamed.

“Oh, I’d love that! I’ll make a list of upbeat songs.”

“Great. What’s your favorite dish?”

“Uhm I love cheese, veggies, rice and potatoes, so any dish with some of these ingredients is a safe bet.”

Petyr chuckled.

“I’ll have that in mind.”

“I also have a question for you,” she told him.

“Go on.”

“What’s your favorite color?” She wanted to make a bookmark and a notebook for him. She’d done others before: for Jeyne and for herself. She had many different decorative papers at home, so she just needed to choose the one that suited him best.

“Green,” he answered. “Why?”

“Ah, it’s a surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer since they're going to spend a whole day together, and I promise they'll finally kiss :-) When/how do you think the kiss will happen? :-)


	13. Chapter 13

Saturday

It rained all night. The pavement was still wet when Sansa left the house in the morning. The sky was clear, and there was a soft breeze. 

Petyr was standing by his car. Sansa smiled when she saw the outfit he’d chosen: a gray sweatshirt and black sport pants. 

They’d agreed to do Zumba before lunch, while the treasure trunk was baking and then cooling at ambient temperature. Sansa had stuffed a blue cotton dress into her toiletry bag. She’d put it on it after taking a shower.

“Hi,” she said once she stopped in front of him.

“Hi.” Petyr smiled and leaned forward to give her a peck on the cheek. His sweatshirt smelled clean. Sansa hadn’t seen him since last Monday and saw he’d grown a light stubble. It made him look sexy, she thought when he pulled away. It was not as if he didn’t look sexy clean shaven. He was. In truth Sansa couldn’t decide how he looked better.

“Let me,” he said motioning to the toiletry bag. “I’ll put it in the trunk.”

“Thank you.” She handed him the toiletry bag and got in the car.

Petyr sat in the driver’s seat a few seconds later. He started the car.

“Did you make a list of songs?” he asked as the car turned to the right. The road ahead was empty. It was still early, but Sansa hadn’t minded getting up early. She hadn’t slept much; she’d been so excited about today.

“Yes.”

“Did you add Get Lucky?” Petyr asked.

“Of course, I couldn’t leave it out,” she answered smiling at him.

“Good.” He turned his steering wheel to the right and the car rounded a curve. “I must ask you to be gentle with me, sweetling. I have never tried Zumba and I’m not a young boy any longer.”

Sansa’s smile grew wider. 

“Are you nervous, Petyr?” she asked in a playful tone. She was looking forward to teaching him Zumba dance. It felt good to be able to teach him something for a change. Besides, it would be so much fun. “You weren’t gentle with me when you teach me the traditional dance from The Fingers. I could barely keep up. Perhaps I should take my revenge.”

He smirked.

“You’re enjoying this, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” 

“Such a wicked girl,” he murmured, the smirk still on his face.

The adjective he’d used, but specially his tone of voice, a little raspy and low, sent a shiver down her spine. She glanced at his lips for a second and wondered what it would feel like to kiss him.

She remembered her conversation with Jeyne. _Be honest._ She wanted to, but this wasn’t the right place to have this conversation. Not while Petyr was driving. She averted her gaze and looked back at the road. She would tell him how she felt at his house, she decided. This time, she wouldn’t falter.

She swallowed and turned to him again.

“I promise I won’t be too hard,” she said, using a playful tone once more.

“Now I’m nervous,” he said chuckling.

“I promise I’ll make it enjoyable,” she said, repeating the words he’d used once, and bit her lip to suppress a laugh.

“Hmm I’m not convinced yet,” he teased. “You’ll have to show me you’re saying the truth.”

“I’ll do. You just have to wait and see.”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to.”

*

His house had a garden with a tiered fountain, large trees, a rose bush beside an iron bench, and a stone path that led to the front door.

“It’s beautiful,” Sansa told him as they made their way to the front door. The air smelled of fresh moss, damp stone. She could also perceive the delicate fragrance of the roses.

“Thank you,” he said. “The trees and the fountain were already here when I bought the house, but I planted the rose bush and ordered the iron bench. There were also some garden statues, but I sold them shortly after I moved here.”

Petyr had also opted for a sober decoration inside the house. The walls were white, and the corridors large. There were a few pictures in the living room: pictures of him with other the staff of The Bear and The Maiden Fair, and also pictures of him in theater and cinema festivals. Sansa recognized some of the people that appeared in them: popular directors, actors and composers. 

“Oh, you know Davos Seaworth,” she said pointing at the man standing next to Petyr in one of the pictures. They both were wearing black suits, and Davos was holding his trophy. He was a well-known stage director. He’d directed many classical plays for the past 30 years.

“Ah, yes. I met him when I was finishing my degree. I had to interview a stage director for a class, and he agreed to meet me,” Petyr explained. “We’ve kept in touch since then.”

He led her to a room on the second floor so she could leave her toiletry bag. Then, they went downstairs and walked into the kitchen. They washed their hands, and Petyr gathered the ingredients for the treasure trunk. 

“Almond flour, 2 eggs, cane sugar, butter, baking powder, apple compote and pine nuts” he recited. “The pine nuts are used to decorate the cake. We also need whipped cream. It’s in the fridge. We have to wait for the cake to cool before cutting it in half and coat both layers with whipped cream.”

“Alright.”

“Do you like all of these ingredients?” he asked looking at her. “I should have asked you if you had any food allergies.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any food allergies. And I love all of these ingredients.” She smiled.

He looked relieved.

“Good.” He tilted his head towards the two small containers. “Since we’re making two treasure trunks, we’re going to double the recipe.”

Sansa nodded.

“And for lunch I had thought about cooking rice,” he went on. “Yesterday I made my special tomato sauce. It tastes better the day after. I assure you this will be the best sauce you have ever had.”

“Oh, you look so sure of yourself, Petyr.”

“I am. You’ll agree with me when you try it. We just have to cook rice and heat up the sauce, so it won’t take us long to have lunch ready.” He paused and offered her a smile. “Shall we start?”

She nodded.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

Petyr preheated the oven to 350º F and replied:

“Could you beat the eggs?” 

“Sure.”

Sansa cracked the eggs and beat them whereas Petyr beat the butter and the cane sugar together. She glanced at him as they worked. His movements were confident. 

“Do you like cooking?” she asked him.

“It’s relaxing,” he answered. “I don’t have much time to cook in the week, so I usually eat sandwiches and salads. Sometimes pizza. On the weekend, I like to make a more elaborated meal. Do you cook?” he moved his bowl closer to her so she could pour the eggs. As she did, carefully not to splash, she confessed:

“Sometimes, though I’m not good at baking desserts.”

“It’s just a matter of practice and finding the right recipe.” He kept beating the mix When it comes to savory foods, it’s easier to improvise: to change some ingredients or the quantities or adjust the temperature. But it’s riskier to do this when baking a cake.”

“Yes, once I tried to bake muffins and they overflew,” she said laughing. “They looked like the swamp thing from _Goosembumps._ ” 

Petyr laughed too. 

“I’ve never read those books,” he said. “But I bet your muffins were cute.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They’d have given you the chills.”

Petyr laughed harder this time.

“At least, did they taste good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She grinned. “Though my sister Arya still teases me about it. On Halloween she always asks me if I’m going to bake some hideous dessert.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” There was a hint of sympathy on his face, but his eyes shone with amusement.

“Don’t worry. It was fun. Besides, Arya always loves teasing everybody, even the people she barely knows. We’ve told her that she might offend them, but she keeps acting like this.”

“Well, I don’t get easily offended so you don’t have to worry if you ever introduce me to her.”

Sansa was going to pour the apple compote in his bowl, but she paused when she heard his words. She thought of her parents, of her mother. How would they react if they knew about her relationship with Petyr?

“I was implying anything,” he said softly, guessing what she was thinking. “I just wanted you to know that if I meet any member of your family at some point, I won’t get into an argument. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said the last part in a whisper, and Sansa felt warm inside.

“Thank you,” she said.

He offered her a small smile and whisked the cake mix. Sansa watched him in silence. She didn’t know whether she should have added something else. The words “thank you” didn’t convey everything she’d wanted to express.

She remembered her conversation with Jeyne once more. _Tell him how you feel_. She glanced at him and licked her lips. She couldn’t.

Petyr poured it into the two containers and put them in the center of the oven. 

“Now we just have to wait about 25 minutes,” Petyr said. “So it’s your turn to teach me, sweetling.” He offered her his hand. “We’ll be more comfortable in the living room.”

Sansa followed him. Petyr let go of her hand when they stepped into the room. He pulled out his phone at turned to her.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” he said, a soft smile crossing his lips.

She returned his smile.

“Take off your shoes,” she said.

“As you wish.” He did so without averting his eyes from hers. There was something in his gaze… It was as if he were trying to tell her something, or encouraging her to do something.

Her heart pounded faster. She pulled out the list she’d written and handed it to him. Their hands touched, and a soft gasp escaped her throat. The air between them suddenly became thicker. Sansa trailed her fingertips over his knuckles, tentatively, trying to tell him how she felt without words. 

Petyr tilted his head, studying her face, but he remained still. What if Jeyne was right? What if he was waiting for her to make the next move? She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her hand paused. 

Petyr didn’t seem disappointed. Slowly, he looked down at the list and read the first song title.

“ _Queen of Peace,_ by Florence + Machine.”

“Yes.” Her mouth felt dry. She swallowed and added: “You can play it on your phone as I teach you some basic moves.”

His lips twitched.

“Okay.” He searched for the song and pushed the play button. Then he put the phone on the side table. 

The song started playing. 

“Okay,” Sansa said, feeling excited and nervous all at once. “We should stand in the center of the room, so we have more space to dance.”

He nodded and followed her. Once they stood there, facing each other, Sansa continued:

“Spread your legs apart and bend your knees.”

He obeyed.

“Now move your hips.”

“Like this?” he moved his hips awkwardly. Too awkwardly.

Sansa narrowed her eyes and looked at him with suspicion. He’d moved his lips perfectly when he’d taught her the traditional dance from The Fingers. 

“Your moves need to be more harmonic,” she told him.

“Show me,” he said.

Sansa moved her hips once more, but he shook his head and held out his hand.

“No, show me,” he repeated.

Sansa shivered. She took his hand and closed the distance between them. Her feet brushed against his. Petyr placed her hand on his waist.

“That’s it,” he murmured. Sansa didn’t say anything. Her heart began beating faster. He took her other hand and placed it above his collaborne. “Tell me how I should breathe, sweetling. Should I use the upper part of my lungs? Or is it better the belly breathing?” He moved her hand down to his abdomen slowly, and Sansa felt his muscles tense. She’d never touched his abdomen before. The touch felt intimate. “Perhaps I should relax my abdominal muscles and allow my lower rips to expand. Hmm?” He breathed through his mouth, and Sansa felt his abdomen relax. “I’ve heard this one is the best technique if you want to dance upbeat songs.” He moved her hand up the side of his ribs and inhaled. Then, exhaled. “I’ve heard the second technique is better for yoga, but if you use it to dance fast, you’ll end up panting,” he continued, his voice low and husky. “What do you think?”

What did she think? She couldn’t think right now, not when his body was so close to hers, not when his hand was still moving hers up and down, up and down, not when he was looking at her like this.

Petyr raised his hand to touch her face.

“Sansa, breathe.”

She hadn’t realized that she was holding her breath. She exhaled. The song was ending, but she wasn’t aware of that. She’d forgotten that she was supposed to teach him Zumba. She’d forgotten the steps she was going to show him, the title songs she wanted him to listen to. Following her impulse, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

She felt his hand on the nape of her neck, his touch reassuring, confirming that he also wanted this. She smiled against his mouth and this must be the signal he was waiting for his lips gently parted hers. She opened her mouth slightly, and his tongue touched hers. His hand moved up, applying a delicious pressure to her scalp, and Sansa found herself moaning against his mouth. Her sound seemed to spur him to kiss her harder. His tongue caressed hers with more fervor, taking her breath away, and Sansa tilted her head backwards, shaking when his tongue caressed her upper lip. He pressed his body closer to hers, and she felt him shake too. She placed her hands on his chest and broke the kiss.

“Wait, wait,” she said breathlessly. 

He stopped right away and touched her forehead with his, panting.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.”

She’d finally told him.

Petyr pulled away. Beneath the desire that flickered in his eyes, she could see kindness. He cupped her cheek and smiled softly.

“It’s alright. Did you like this?”

“Yes. So much. I… I’d never felt this way, Petyr.” She swallowed. I think I’ve fallen in love with you, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. “I’d… I’d like to kiss you again, but I think I’m not ready to go any further than that.”

He smiled reassuringly and caressed her cheek.

“It’s alright. We can take it slow.” He leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. Sansa thought he was going to continue kissing her, but he took her hands and led her to the sofa. “Here. Are you alright?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes.”

Another song by Florence + The Machine started playing, and she recognized it immediately. _What the Water Gave Me_. This was one of her favorites of all time. She’d sung it many times. 

“Close your eyes,” Petyr whispered, and she obeyed.

She felt his lips against her forehead. Then, against her nose. She smiled. His hand stroked her hair.

“Beautiful,” he said. 

His lips caressed her cheeks, her chin and her jawline, and when he finally pressed his mouth to hers, she sighed. His touch was soft, unhurried, unlike his previous kiss. Sansa didn’t know which one he liked better. He reached for her right hand, and she held it as her mouth moved mirroring his. Warmth was spreading across her belly again, this time slower. She felt as if she could float.

Petyr broke the kiss right after the song ended, and exhaled, his eyes still closed. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. 

“I think you were about to teach me Zumba,” he said, and his voice sounded a little breathless. 

Sansa placed his hand, still holding hers, on her abdomen, and smiled when she saw the look of surprise on his face.

“Did you like this song?” she asked him.

“Yes.” He dropped his gaze to her abdomen and parted his lips.

“I shall sing it for you, before we do Zumba, if you like. And since you were asking about breathing techniques, I thought you’d like to feel my breath.” She felt as if there were butterflies where he was touching her, just below her breasts. She hoped her voice didn’t falter, but she didn’t want him to pull his hand away.

“I’d love to, sweetling,” he answered.

Sansa didn’t know which part he was referring to. Probably both, she thought as she watched his face. She breathed in. Her voice trembled a little when she began singing, but soon, she gained more confidence. Petyr kept his hand there; he kept staring into her eyes, and there was a mix of daze and amazement and delight in his gaze.

_So lay me down  
Let the only sound  
Be the overflow  
Pockets full of stones  
Lay me down  
Let the only sound  
Be the overflow_

She pressed his hand to her abdomen a little harder as she hit the last notes. She felt lighter, almost like a bird flying across the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in italics are from the song What the Water Gave Me by Florence + The Machine.
> 
> I hope the kiss scene has lived up to your expectations :-) Anyway I want to thank you all for the comments you've left on previous chapters, and for the kudos, suscriptions and bookmarks. I hope you all are doing well :-)


	14. Chapter 14

Petyr kept staring at her after the song ended, those emotions still flickering in his eyes as if he were under a spell. For the first time since she’d placed his hand on her abdomen, she felt his hand tremble under hers. It was subtle, so subtle that it would have gone unnoticed if it had happened while she was singing. Sansa had been so absorbed in the song, so immersed in the lyrics and the tune and the gray-green color of his eyes that everything else had shifted to the background; everything else had become blurred like an out-of-focus photograph.

She wondered is she’d missed any other reaction, if his body language had told her something else and she’d failed to see it.

She hadn’t planned on singing for him today; it had just felt right. The kisses he’d trailed over her face, the softness of his lips against hers, his tongue gently touching hers, letting her get used to this unfamiliar sensation, showing her how good she could feel. His kissed had felt like a promise of what was to come if she ever wanted to go further.

Even though Petyr had said once that everyone should be able to grow at their own pace, Sansa had been a little worried about his reaction when she’d broken the kiss and told him that she wasn’t ready to go any further than that. She’d been certain that he wouldn’t try to pressure her to have sex, but she’d almost expected to catch him trying to hide his disappointment. Sansa didn’t know how he’d imagined this event would play out or what expectations he’d set for today, but his reaction had been everything she’d wanted and more. Petyr hadn’t made her feel guilty or ashamed. He was willing to wait and let her explore at her own pace.

She smiled at him and released his hand. He didn’t pull his hand away from her abdomen at first. He seemed lost in thought.

“Did you like the song?” she asked him.

Her voice brought him out of his reverie. He licked his lips.

“Yes,” he whispered. His tone sounded reverent when he added: “Your voice... Your voice seems from another world. It’s the most beautiful I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you.”

He shook his head. 

“No, thank you,” he said. “Thank you for this. I know you’re not used to singing in front of people. Thank you for letting me hear you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t criticize me.”

He looked surprised.

“Criticize you? Why would I do such a thing?”

“Well, I’m not a professional singer. I make mistakes. My voice has trembled at first.” She was sure he’d noticed.

He placed his hand over hers.

“Sansa, even the professional singers make mistakes. We are all human. You were a little nervous at first. It’s normal. Many professional singers feel nervous when they’re about to sing, no matter how many times they’d done it before. You might be surprised to discover that some singers who look very composed on stage are a wreck. They’d just learnt to hide their nerves.”

“I wish I could learn to hide my nerves too,” she confessed. “I still cannot control my voice during a presentation in class, specially during the first minutes. I always study in depth the topic I’m going to talk about, and I know that helps a lot. Sometimes I feel very confident and I’m proud of the presentation I’ve done. But other times, as I’m speaking, I feel suddenly unsure. My hands tremble, my voice sounds high-pitched, my cheeks feel so hot. It’s discouraging. It feels like a setback.”

“No, it’s not a setback at all,” he quickly said, squeezing her hand gently. “It’s completely normal. It happens to everybody who are scared of public speaking. Sometimes they feel so confident and think they’d overcome their fear, but other times, their anxiety returns and it feels like everything they’d achieved has ended up being useless, and they’re even tempted to stop trying. But it’s not true, Sansa. Every achievement matters. Every step counts. The effort and time you’ve put into this, the experience you’ve gained, don’t magically disappear. Everything you’ve achieved so far matters.”

Sansa could relate to everything Petyr had said. Every time her anxiety returned when speaking in public, she thought she’d done something wrong. She thought she’d failed, and she felt frustrated and discouraged, and also tempted to give up. Learning that she wasn’t alone, that this was a common thing was comforting. 

Petyr watched her face, as if trying to read her thoughts. He broke the silence once more:

“Say it: Everything I’ve achieved so far matters.”

“Everything I’ve achieved so far matters.”

He smiled softly.

“Again.”

She swallowed and said more firmly:

“Everything I’ve achieved so far matters.”

His smile broadened.

“Good. Do you believe it?”

“Yes.”

“And if you ever think you’ve had a setback, do you promise me that you won’t let it dissuade you from speaking in public again?”

A small smile crossed her lips. 

“I promise,” she said. She felt better after taking with him about this. He hadn’t made her feel ashamed. His words had given her more confidence. 

“Perfect. One more thing before we do Zumba.” He squeezed her hand again. “If you ever want to give a presentation in front of me, to practice, you just have to tell me.”

“Thank you." She hadn't expected him to offer. "This means a lot, more than I can express.”

He tilted his head.

"There's a way you can show me how much it means to you." He smirked, letting her see he was in a playful mood now.

Sansa smiled, the atmosphere suddenly lighter.

"How?"

“Easy. Just don’t be too hard during our Zumba class.”

She let out a laugh.

“Done,” she said. “Only If you behave.”

“Me?” He put his hand on his chest and feigned and offended look. “I don't know how you can doubt me. I’ll be a model student, you’ll see.”

Sansa shook her head, still laughing, and rose to her feet. 

“Shall we?” she asked holding out her hand.

Petyr took it.

When they stopped in the center of the room, he grabbed his phone and selected the next song from the list. _Separate Ways_ by Journey. After and advertisement, the song started playing. Petyr put his phone on the side table and stared at Sansa, waiting for her instructions. 

She placed her hands on her waist and tilted her head, trying to suppress a smile. Petyr was looking at her with an innocent expression, as if he had never played a trick in his life.

As if he hadn’t used a stratagem to make her touch his abdomen and ribcage.

No, she couldn’t trust him.

“Okay, I won’t ask you to move your hips for now,” she said, her tone cautious.

A smirk flashed across his face, betraying his innocent look, yet he spoke in a peaceful tone.

“Alright, sweetling.”

She wouldn’t fall into his trap this time.

“Give a shimmy with your shoulders. Like this.”

He mirrored her movements.

“Very good, Petyr. Now spread your legs apart and shift your weight from one foot to the other. Bend your knees each time. Slowly.”

He obeyed.

“Now, a little faster,” she said. “Yes, very good.”

“I love it when you praise me, sweetling.”

She blushed, but she managed to reply in a playful tone:

“Keep being this obedient during the whole class, then.”

“Oh, but in that case, I’d deserve more than a few compliments, don’t you think so, sweetling?” 

He was teasing her; she knew, yet she couldn’t help but blush harder, and of course, he noticed, and his lips curled into a smug grin. But Sansa wasn’t going to let him think that she was lost for words.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I was expecting you to come up with something, sweetling,” he answered. “Surprise me.”

Oh, he was challenging her. Alright, challenge accepted. She’d come up with something. She just needed some time.

“Arch your back and pop your booty,” she commanded.

“What?” His eyes widened in surprise and he stopped abruptly. 

Sansa smiled to herself. She’d caught him off guard.

“Come on, Petyr. Like this.” She did this dance move slowly so he could learn it. “It’s easy. You can clasp your hands if you like. Now, it’s your turn.”

He shook his head, amused.

“I’m looking forward to my reward,” he said before doing this dance move. His movements were harmonic, and there was a boyish grin on his face, a mix of amusement and pride, as if he were telling her “look at me. See how good I’m dancing”. He looked so cute. Sansa felt a sudden rush of tenderness towards him.

“You’ve done this before,” she told him.

“No. This is the first time,” he assured her without stopping. “Why, am I doing it flawlessly?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Good. Teach me more.” His voice dropped an octave and he looked at her with such intensity that she shivered.

“Petyr!” She let out a shaky laugh.

“What?” He tilted his head, but now there was a smug look on his face.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“The way you looked at me. Your gaze.”

“Yes?” He took a step forward, but she raised her hands, even though it was tempting to let him come closer.

“We’re not done yet, Petyr.”

“Okay,” he stepped back again. 

“Now I’m going to ask you to move your hips, but you must behave.”

“Of course.” His lips twitched.

“I’m serious, Petyr.” But of course, she wasn’t. “Shift your hips to the right and stomp with your left foot. Good. Now clap your hands thrice. Take a wide step to the right and raise your arm above your head. Perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Bring one knee to your chest. Now, the other. Again. Again. And again.”

“You want to see me panting, don’t you?”

She grinned.

“Perhaps.”

“Such a wicked girl.”

“Petyr! You’re looking at me that way again.”

“I know,” he said.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it distracts me.”

“Oh.” He stopped raising his legs and looked at her that way again, though now he was a little breathless and it made him look even sexier.

“Petyr.” Her voice faltered.

He took a step forward, and another, and another, and this time she didn’t ask him to stop. She swallowed when his chest brushed against hers, her eyes locked with his.

“How about running a sprint to end the workout?” he asked, his voice low.

Of all things she’d imagined he would say, this wasn’t among them.

“A sprint?”

“Yeah. You run and I’ll try to catch you.”

 _And what will you do when you catch me?_ she wanted to ask, but she just nodded and turned away. She began running.

Soon she heard him running after her. She left the living room, trying not to laugh. She couldn’t waste her energy.

She ran through the corridors, but she didn’t enter any room. It would be a bad idea, because Petyr would catch her right away, unless there was a door in the room that led to another area of the house.

Her heart was pounding so hard and she was gasping when she finally decided to climb the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she rested her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. 

Bad idea. Soon Petyr was climbing the last steps, and he smirked when he saw her. Sansa couldn’t suppress her laugh now. She straightened and turned away. She knew he would catch her eventually, but she wasn’t going to stand still and make it so easy for him. 

Well, this was what she thought until she reached the end of the corridor.

She turned her head. Petyr was only a few feet away from her.

“Do you surrender?”

“Never!” She glanced at the nearest door and opened it.

It was a bedroom. There were books on the shelves, and a sweater and pants folded carefully on the bed. She perceived a faint scent of mint.

 _His bedroom_ , she realized. She’d stepped into his bedroom.

“I caught you.” His voice sounded behind her. He was also panting. Sansa jumped when he began tickling her ribs and she turned away to face him.

“Petyr, we didn’t talk about tickles! She giggled.

“Ah, you should know by now that I don’t play fair, sweetling.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her nose, and she relaxed in his arms.

"You said you'd behave," she reminded him.

"Where would be the fun in that? Besides, I meant I would behave during the Zumba class, but the class is over, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." She said raising a hand to stroke his jawline. His light stubble made her feel a tingling sensation in her fingertips. It was so pleasant; she also wanted to feel it in her lips. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Petyr didn’t move. He was waiting for her to continue or to stop. Slowly, she parted his lips and caressed his tongue.

“Good,” she whispered pulling away, a playful smile upon her lips.

“I’m glad I could please you, sweetling.” There it was, that tone of voice, low and husky. The tone of voice that was as intense as his gaze. He dropped his arms to his sides, very pleased with himself. Of course he knew the effect that gaze and that tone of voice had on her.

Sansa took a step back, the smile still on her face.

“I should take a shower.”

He nodded.

“I’ll take a shower too, but first I’ll check the oven,” he said. “The treasure trunks must be almost ready.”

“Alright.” She licked her lips, but didn't move. Petyr didn't either. The intensity of his gaze hadn't disappeared yet. Sansa shifted her weight, her eyes fixed on his. After a pause, she closed the distance between them and kissed him again, and she could feel his triumphant smile as he kissed her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the Zumba class! :-)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on writing another chapter so soon, but I was feeling a little down. I know this is a super indulgent fic but it makes me happy to write it, and also makes me happy to think that some of these chapters might make someone smile :-)

Sansa also washed her hair. She used his hairdryer to dry her hair. When they agreed to do Zumba before lunch and take a shower afterwards, she’d asked him if he had a hairdryer. She also used his shower gel; it had a sweet smell, like a mix of almonds and shea butter. Sansa didn’t used his shampoo though; she’d brought her chamomile and lemon shampoo bar.

She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her blue dress was embroidered with flowers that meandered around her waist and her ribcage like a vine. It hit below mid-calf dress, and its sleeves went down to the elbows. She twirled, feeling how the hem of her dress fluttered lightly. She smiled at her reflection. She felt pretty. 

She made her way downstairs. As she approached the kitchen, she perceived a delicious smell. Tomato, garlic and spices. She stood by the doorway. 

Petyr was already there. His hair was a little damp. He was wearing the clothes she’d seen folded on his bed: the sweater and the pants. He was stirring the pot of sauce. He’d shifted his weight to the right as he moved the wooden spoon, and there was something alluring in his position, in the way his pelvis was tilted, in the way his arm was drawing small circles. Sansa couldn’t help but stare at him.

He turned off the fire under the pot. She saw his lips twitch and knew he’d noticed her presence. 

“Is it smell good?” he asked without turning to her. 

Sansa stepped into the kitchen.

“Yes,” she said approaching him. “If it tastes as good as it smells, you might be right: this might be the best tomato sauce I’ve ever tried.”

“Oh, I’m certain I’m right.” He put the lid back on the pot and placed the wooden spoon over the handle. Then he turned to her, and his eyes traveled down her body, a pleased expression crossing his features. “So beautiful,” he murmured leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Sansa breathed out and put her hands on his chest, not to stop him, but to feel him closer. He understood because soon his arms were wrapped around her waist, and he was pulling her against him. He trailed his lips along her jawline; his facial hair brushing against her skin in a way that made her sigh. He caressed her earlobe and began descending, and she curled her fingers in his sweater and held her breath in anticipation. He’d never kissed her neck before.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and his hands drew a slow circle on her back, in a comforting manner.

“No.” She swallowed. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He chuckled against her neck, and she pulled herself closer, feeling as if his voice was reverberating inside her.

“Good,” he murmured before kissing her below her ear, and then lower.

She shivered when his lips found the pulse point below her jaw. He began sucking it gently, making her toes curl inside her shoes, and she had to press her lips together hard to suppress a moan. She wondered if he’d known this was her most sensitive spot in her neck or if her shiver had given it away. 

“Don’t hold back, Sansa,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to hear you.” His mouth returned to her pulse point, and she gasped when his tongue licker her skin. “Hmm you smell so good.”

Her lips curled into a shaky grin.

“I’ve used your shower gel,” she told him, tightening her grip on her sweater.

“Hmm Do you?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And what about your hair?” His mouth traveled up, pressing soft kisses to her jaw, her cheek, her temple and finally her hair. “This is not my shampoo.”

Sansa giggled, burying her face on his chest. 

“It’s mine,” she confirmed. 

His hands moved up and down slightly, and he kissed her head.

“What does it smell like?” he asked.

“Chamomile and lemon.”

“I like it better than my shampoo,” he said. “Beware, sweetling. I could steal it from you.”

Sansa pulled away, smiling. 

“It’s for light hair,” she told him. "It wouldn't suit yours."

“Such a pity. It has a lovely scent” A smirk flashed across his face. His hand slid from her back to her waist slowly, spreading the warmth she felt inside her body. “And speaking of lovely things… Such pretty flowers your dress have.” His fingertips trailed one of the flowers above her hip, following the pattern: the stem, the two leaves, one on each side of the stem, and each petal. “Nine.”

“Sorry?” She was so lost in the touch of his fingertips that didn’t understand what he was referring to.

“The petals. This flower has nine petals.”

“Oh.”

"You haven't noticed?"

"No."

“Then you don't know if the others have also nine petals, do you?”

She shook her head. Petyr continued:

“They should since they are all identical. Shall I check it? It would be terrible if the clerk had sold you a dress with a fault.”

Sansa bit back a laugh.

“Okay. But what if you see a flower with a different number of petals?”

“Hmm. I’m afraid you’d have to take the dress off and put on another piece of clothing,” he murmured as if mulling over a serious topic.

She giggled.

“I don’t have another piece of clothing apart from what I’ve worn for our Zumba class.”

“Then you’d have to wear something mine.” He grinned. 

“Do you think I’d look pretty wearing one of your shirts?”

He leaned forward, and Sansa closed her eyes in anticipation.

“Yes,” he answered before claiming her mouth.

He kissed her as he’d done before, and the familiarity of it made her feel more relaxed this time. Soon, her mouth was moving against him, her tongue caressing his, and she didn't pause; she didn't falter. Petyr smiled against her lips as if sensing her confidence. He cupped the back of her nape and touched her neck with his other hand to tilt her head gently. Sansa followed his silent instructions without hesitation, and he deepened the kiss unhurriedly. His hands remained still on her waist as if he were trying not to overwhelm her, but oh, gods, it was too much, too much. Her legs felt weak and the heat was going to consume her whole, she was certain. His lips and his tongue continued moving slow, and at this point she didn’t know if he was still trying not to overwhelm her or if he was teasing her. She moaned against his mouth, and heard a faint growl escape his throat. _Oh, gods. Oh, gods._ She’d never experienced anything like this. Never.

It was he who broke the kiss, panting hard. They stared into each other, and she could tell he was trying to regain control. Several minutes passed. When they calmed, she ran her hand through his hair, still a little damp, and he closed his eyes, his face contorting in pleasure. Sansa had been wanting to do this for a long time and was happy to see that he was also enjoying it.

He opened his eyes and offered her a smile.

“How was that?” he asked.

She ran her hands through his temples, disheveling them, and the sensation must be more pleasant for him because Petyr sucked in a breath, and she could tell he was trying to keep his eyes open. 

“This was my favorite kiss so far,” she told him without stopping. His hair was so soft, and he looked so good with a messy hairstyle.

His face lit up.

“Yeah?” he asked, breathing through his mouth.

“Yes.”

“That’s good to know,” he said. His hands slid up to her ribcage. “Now, it's totally necessary that I make sure there’s no imperfection in your dress.”

Sansa laughed.

“Okay." Suddenly, she remembered about the treasure trunks. "Wait, did you take the treasure trunks out of the oven?”

“Yes,” He motioned to the window. “They’re cooling. We’ll have to wait for a little while before putting the whipped cream on them.”

“Great.” She placed her hands on his chest. “Then, you can check my dress, Mr. Baelish.”

“Hmm, I'm Mr. Baelish again?" He gave her a wicked smile. "Well, Ms. Stark, it will be a pleasure to check your dress.” His eyes lowered to her dress. “Hmm let’s see.” His hands trailed the patterns on her waist. He took his time, touching each petal, each leaf, each stem. “Everything seems in order here. Two leaves per stem. Nine petals. Yeah, no imperfections in these flowers. May I continue?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes when his hands moved up.

His fingertips caressed her ribcage slowly.

“Hmm I like this one,” he whispered as he touched a flower dangerously close to her left breast.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“All of the flowers are identical, Petyr.” She laughed but it sounded more like a gasp.

“Well, but this is placed in such a beautiful place. Yeah, it’s my favorite so far. Let’s check the others.” The back of his hand lightly grazed the side of her left breast as he raised his arm, and this time, her gasp was clearly audible.

Petyr stopped and looked her in the eye when he heard the sound. Sansa held his gaze and saw a hint of concern in his eyes. He was worried that he’d pushed it too far.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. “Am I going too fast?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, and shook her head quickly. “I mean, I’m alright. You’re not going too fast.

He looked relieved.

“Good. I want you to let me know if I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable, alright?”

“Alright.” She smiled. She reached out to caress his cheek. “Don’t worry. So far, I cannot complain. You’ve been a model student and judging by the smell of the kitchen, you’ve cooked a delicious meal.”

He chuckled against the palm of her hand.

“Careful, sweetling. I haven’t cooked the rice yet. What if the rice turns to mush?”

“Then, we’ll spread the tomato sauce on the bread,” she replied with a grin.

He chuckled again.

“Sounds good enough,” he said.

“Yes.” She pulled her hand away, and he straightened. “Well, tell me, Petyr, have you finished checking the flowers?”

He returned his attention to her dress. His eyes traveled over her body paying attention to every pattern on her waist and ribcage, and she held her breath unconsciously until her lungs start to hurt, remembering how good his fingertips had felt against her body a few moments before.

Finally he looked back at her and licked his lips.

“Yes, I’ve checked every flower in your lovely dress.”

“Was there any imperfection?” She whispered because she didn't trust her tone of voice.

Petyr didn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiled and gave her a peck on the lips, and Sansa thought it was wonderful she’d chosen this dress for today. Her eyes were still closed when she heard his voice.

“Everything was perfect, sweetling.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of hurt/comfort <3

Petyr pulled away and offered her a smile before opening a cabinet drawer. He grabbed another pot and half filled it with water. Sansa leaned against the countertop and watched him add the rice and salt. She didn’t want to remain still though; she felt a sudden burst of energy. His kisses, his touch, the words he’d whispered near her ear had made her body release a burst of adrenaline. It felt amazing to be able to caress his face and his hair, and to kiss him at last. She’d been holding back for what felt like an eternity, and now she realized that he must have been holding back too. Sansa wondered for how long he’d been wanting to kiss her. Since the day they’d been in the pub? Or before? She thought about asking him, but just when she was going to do so, he turned to her and spoke:

“We could listen a few more songs from your list while we wait for the rice to cook. And who knows, perhaps we could dance too.”

“Oh, you’re willing to dance to upbeat songs?” she asked resting her hands on the countertop. “I thought the Zumba class had left you exhausted.”

The corner of his mouth twitched when he heard her. Sansa was expecting him to say something funny, something like _I’m not that old_ , or _It wasn’t just the Zumba class. I also ran a sprint and climbed the stairs._

However, he didn’t speak. Instead, he began approaching her slowly. A step. A pause. Another step. A pause. His eyes were fixed on hers as he walked, and there was an expression in his gaze that seemed to say  
_Oh you enjoy teasing me, don’t you? But two can play this game, sweetling._

She let out a laugh when Petyr stood in front of her, but her laughter died in her throat when Petyr rested his hands on the countertop, barely touching hers. His body was a few inches away from hers, yet she felt as if he were much closer, as if his body were covering hers, and the kitchen was suddenly warmer even though the warmth she felt had nothing to do with the water boiling in the pot.

“Do I look exhausted?” he asked, and his voice almost sounded like a purr. “Hmm?” 

“Yes,” she lied and spread her legs a little wider so he could come closer if he wanted to.

He lowered his eyes to the empty space between them for a moment. Then, he lifted his head again, and his lips curled into a smirk.

“I’ll have to show you how wrong you are.”

Sansa sucked in a breath when he began leaning forward. Was he going to kiss her? She closed her eyes. Her stomach fluttered when she felt his chest pressed to hers. Petyr didn't rest his weight on her, but he didn't pull away either, and even though he was wearing a sweater and she was wearing a dress, the sensation was very pleasant. She wanted him even closer, but Petyr didn’t move.

She felt him breathe out near her earlobe and heard his voice, low and raspy and hot:

“I have good stamina, but perhaps my little demonstration earlier wasn’t enough.”

She felt as if warm liquid was descending upon her. The word he’d used, _stamina_ , conjured an image in her mind. She pictured him settle between her legs. She pictured him inside her and wondered how it would feel. She wasn’t ready for that yet, but the image sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Sweetling?” He’d felt her chest tremble against his.

“Yes?” Her fingers curled on the marble surface.

“Tell me. Wasn’t I very convincing earlier?”

She released the air in her lungs.

“Perhaps.” She could feel the steady movements of his ribcage. How could he still breathe normally? And why hadn’t he kissed her yet? She tilted her head, silently asking him to do so, and her cheek brushed against his.

“Petyr…” she almost whined.

“That’s an inconvenience, the fact that I failed to show you how good I am at performing physical activities,” he murmured and gently nibbled her earlobe. “But I’ll tell you a little secret: I’m a resourceful man. I’m always prepared for any possible outcome. Since I cannot expect you to believe me just because, I’ll have to try harder.” He punctuated the last word, and kissed her throat, growling faintly against her skin. Sansa pressed her lips together, trying to slow her breathing. If he could look composed, she also should be able to. Right?

Her thoughts vanished when she felt his fingertips caressing her wrists, the touch so light that tickled. 

“Petyr,” she let out a shaky laugh.

He turned her palms up and began stroking her wrists with his thumbs, spreading a tingling sensation in the back of her head. Sansa bit her lip and leaned backwards.

“Don’t.” She heard him said softly. A small gasp escaped her when he brushed his lips against hers. He spoke again, this time near her mouth. “Don’t hold back. We are alone; no one can disturb us. Just relax and let your body react freely. I love hearing you.”

She opened her eyes. Petyr smiled at her, his smile was so bright and warm that she melted. He took her hands.

“Come with me. I won’t let you believe that I have poor stamina,” he joked.

“Wait.” She cupped his face and leaned in. She closed her eyes once more and kissed him with passion, releasing some of the tension she’d been holding before, when his chest was pressed against her and he’d caressed her wrists. She could sense she’d caught him off guard, but Petyr reciprocated the kiss just as eagerly. He’d also been holding tension, and she wondered if this was the reason why he seemed in a hurry to dance to upbeat songs. Dancing released endorphins and relieved stress. 

They both were breathing fast when they broke the kiss. Sansa felt a little shy suddenly. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” she confessed. “I just… What you did… I had never felt like this about anyone.” It was not just attraction, she was certain. It was much more.

Petyr took her hands again.

“Did you feel good when I leaned over you?” he asked. “Wasn’t it overwhelming?”

“It was awesome.” She answered sincerely and placed her hands on his chest. She could feel the heat of his body through his sweater and sense the calm he irradiated. His face lit up when he heard her. His thumbs caressed the back of her hands.

“That makes me so happy, Sansa. I want to know what you like, what feels good for you. I want to please you.”

He had used a soft tone of voice, but Sansa blushed all the same. She knew that Petyr genuinely wanted to know how to please her and that he was going slow because all of this was new to her.

“I also liked it when you said all those things,” she told him. “And when you caressed my wrists.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, a smile upon his lips. “Would you say that I’m a fast learner then?” he asked in an amused tone.

Sansa laughed.

“Don’t look so smug!” 

“Is that a yes?” He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed harder.

“Yes,” she conceded. “Come on, let’s dance.”

*

They danced until the rice was cooked. They set the table, and he asked her what she’d like to drink.

“I have water, wine and beer,” he said.

“Water, please,” she answered. “Actually, I don’t drink alcohol often. I just drink one beer or apple cider when I go to a pub or a party.”

“I’ll drink water too,” he said smiling. “I also like apple cider, though usually I only buy it for Christmas and New Year’s Eve.”

He served the rice and the tomato sauce. Then, he leaned back in his chair and watched her as she tried the first bite.

The rice was just right, not too tender, not too hard, and the sauce was tasty and delicious.

“You were right. It’s the best tomato sauce I’ve tried,” she told him.

He looked pleased.

“Thank you. I adapted an existing recipe and tried different combinations before finding the right one. I shall give you the recipe, only if you promise me not to patent it.”

Sansa laughed.

“I promise.” She took another bite and then she put the fork on the place. There was something she’d been wanting to ask him for a while, but she hadn’t found the right moment. Now that they’d been kissing and that she was certain that he was attracted to her, she needed to know. “Petyr. May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He also put his fork down and stared at her.

“You know that I’ve never done this before,” she began. “I’d like… I’d like to know if there have been many other women before me.” It wasn’t easy to say it and she wasn’t sure if she’d been able to convey what she really wanted to ask him. _Do you want a serious relationship?_

“There have been two,” he said after a silence.

“Two?” She looked at him surprised. She’d expected the number to be higher. Had he only had sex with two women, or did he mean that he’d been in a relationship twice?

“Yes. I’ve never had a girlfriend, but I have never had sex with a stranger either,” he explained. “The first woman I had sex with was a university friend. I knew her in my second year. We didn’t love each other, we just had fun. She had flings with other guys. I haven’t seen her since we graduated.”

“And the other?”

“The other is an actress. I met her about ten years ago, during a theater festival. We ran into each other in other festivals until we started seeing plays and going to the movies.” His tone was careful. Sansa could tell that he was measuring his words; he was trying not to hurt her.

“Do you still see her?” she asked, fearing his answer.

“The last time I saw her was this Summer,” he said softly. “But that belongs in the past, Sansa.” His tone grew more intense: “I don’t want to have sex with her or with any other woman. You’re everything I want. I have never had sex with a stranger because I need some kind of connection before, an emotional bond. But I have never had a girlfriend before because at the same time I was afraid of developing a deep connection, of becoming too vulnerable.”

She knew this had to do with what had happened between him and her mother, but Sansa didn’t want to bring up this topic now, not when he’d just confessed that she was everything she wanted.

“And now?” she asked faintly. “Are you still afraid of developing a deep connection with someone?”

“Yes,” he admitted, giving her an apologetic smile. “But I’m willing to try. With you. I want to allow myself to be vulnerable with you, Sansa. If you also want to, of course.” He breathed out as if he’d just climbed many steps.

Sansa also let out the air she was holding. He didn’t want this to be a fleeting relationship either. He also wanted more.

“I want to,” she said leaning over the table to take his hands. She squeezed them and looked him in the eye. She saw the emotions flickering in his gaze and could tell he was trying to hide them. “Don’t,” she asked remembering what he’d told her as he massaged her wrists. “You can be vulnerable with me, Petyr. You can be yourself around me.”

“Sansa…” he averted his gaze from hers and swallowed thickly.

“It’s alright, Petyr. It’s alright.” She squeezed his hands one more.

He looked back at her, and there was a conflicted expression on his face.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Tell me.” She caressed his thumbs, trying to reassure him.

“I have a large scar on my chest,” he rasped. “It’s not pretty.”

“My uncle.”

“Yes.” He lowered his gaze.

“I wish I could undo the past,” she said. She brought his hands to her lips and heard him gasp when she kissed his knuckles. It was painful to see how insecure he felt about his scar, and how it still brought back awful memories. Their eyes met once more. Sansa could sense the tension in his body and realized that he was trying to read her. He was trying to find out if she would look at him differently because of his scar. She went on: “I’m so sorry my uncle did that to you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to fear my reaction if you ever show me your scar. I’ll still think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” She added, trying to hide how it pained her to see him like this. She offered him a smile. She hoped that he believed her because she'd said the truth.

She felt warm inside when she saw him return her smile.

“Do you really think I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?” he asked, and there was a hint of amusement in his voice. It was so good to see the doubt and the fear disappearing from his face.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Petyr,” she joked.

He chuckled.

“It will be hard,” he said. “Not everyday the most beautiful woman on earth tells you that you’re the most handsome man she’d ever seen."

Samsa blushed, disarmed by his words. He spoke again:

“May I come closer and kiss you, sweetling?”

“Yes, please.”


	17. Chapter 17

After lunch, Petyr suggested finishing making the treasure trunks. Sansa nodded and rose to her feet, but to her surprise, Petyr didn’t move.

“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll join you in a moment,” he said with an enigmatic smile.

Sansa didn’t ask what he was going to do in the meantime even though she was really curious.

“Okay,” she said. As she walked towards the door, she could hear his chair being pushed away and resisted the urge to look behind her.

However, she couldn’t hold back any longer when she reached the door. She turned her head and caught him opening a drawer.

What was he searching for? It was tempting to wait for a little longer and see what item he pulled out, but the idea made her feel guilty, so she hurried to cross the threshold and didn’t look back.

Petyr joined her in the kitchen some seconds later. He was smiling mysteriously, and his smile grow bigger when he met her eyes. 

“Shall we start?” he asked.

Sansa tilted her head. What was he plotting? She narrowed her eyes but ended up nodding. 

“Good,” he said pretending not to notice the look on her face. He brushed her back with his arm as he walked past her to grab the cakes, and Sansa held her breath. She turned her head and caught him grinning smugly. He was enjoying this, wasn’t he? 

In silence, he cut one of the sponge cakes in half and coated both layers with whipped cream. Then, he decorated the top of the cake with some pine nuts. His smile never left his face as he worked, and Sansa was getting more intrigued. Petyr was teasing her. Suddenly she had the feeling that he was waiting for her to ask him what was going on. If he didn’t want her to wonder what he’d been doing in the living room, he could have made an excuse to be left alone. He could have said that he needed to go to the bathroom and then went back to the living room while Sansa was waiting for him in the kitchen. 

“Your turn,” he said. 

“Okay,” she replied but instead of finishing her treasure trunk, she stared at him as if this could give her a clue of what he was hiding from her. Petyr held her gaze, and his smile turned into a smirk. Several seconds passed until she finally gave up. She grabbed the knife and cut the sponge cake in half. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look back at him until she finished.

She lifted her head then and made eye contact with him. Sansa could tell he was trying to keep an unreadable expression, but his gaze betrayed him. He was amused. She crossed her arms over chest, curious to see what his next move would be. Petyr made a sound, like a _Uhm_ and spoke without breaking eye contact:

“Almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Sansa furrowed her brow and looked down at the treasure trunks, trying to find a difference between them. They almost looked identical. 

“What do you mean?” she asked looking at him again.

His expression didn’t change. Instead of answering her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal object. This must be what he’d pulled out of the drawer. Sansa leaned forward and took the object from his hand when he handed it to her. It was heavier than she’d expected.

“A bird pin?” 

“Good guess,” he said softly. “Try again.”

She watched the object with more attention. Perhaps it was a bird pendant, but there was no hole on the top edge. She turned it upside down, and it was then when she saw a tiny button.

“Go on,” he said when she raised her head. 

She pushed the button. Slowly, a small key came out of the metal bird.

“Good.” Petyr broke the silence once more. “I must confess that I should have hidden this inside the treasure trunk, but honestly, I didn’t want to stain it.” 

Sansa remembered his words at the pub: Petyr had told her that as a child, he’d felt like a bird when dancing. It mustn’t be a coincidence that he’d chosen a bird shaped design. 

She heard him open the fridge and saw him put the cakes inside. 

“Of course, this is just the key that opens your gift,” he continued once he closed the fridge. “Your real gift is waiting for you in one of the rooms of this house. A very special room indeed. One you haven’t visited yet.” He offered her his hand. “I shall lead you now, if you want.”

Sansa took his hand without hesitation. Of course, she wanted. She couldn’t wait to find out what gift he was going to give her. She thought about the notebook and the bookmark she’d made for him. She’d give them to him later. She hoped he liked them.

*

Petyr asked her to close her eyes when they stood in front of the door. He opened it and led her inside. They just took a few steps before he asked her to stop. Sansa still had her eyes closed, but she figured out what room this was.

It smelled of ink and paper and wood. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispered near her ear.

She let out a faint gasp when she did. There were several large shelves, filled with books with their spines facing outwards. Most spines were dark brown or red, but there were also several books with yellow spines. She couldn’t read the titles, but the typography was old. She’d had the opportunity to see medieval manuscripts, incunabula and books from 16th to 19th at the university, and some of the books Petyr has in this room looked very alike.

“You own all these books?” Her voice sounded amazed.

“I do.” He smiled, pleased with her reaction. “In this room I keep all my old books. They need more care than the modern books. I keep this room at a constant temperature and also check its humidity level.”

“These are pieces of art,” she said, her eyes traveling over the shelves. Building this library must have cost him a fortune.

“I’m in touch with several antiquarian booksellers,” Petyr explained. “They know my preferences so they always contact me when there’s a book I might be interested in.” He offered her his hand again, and she saw the excitement in his eyes. “Come. You haven’t seen your gift yet.”

He led her to a table located in a corner. There was a stack of paper, a pencil case, and a latex glove box, but another item caught her attention. A glass box with small holes at the sides. There was a book inside. The cover was dark green, and the illustration was very suggestive. There was a lake and a large tree at the bottom. The tree had a door slightly open, like a silent invitation to find out what was on the other side. 

The title was written in silver letters. Her heart began pounding faster when she read it.

_Byrne’s Complete Folktales from Westeros_

“No… It can’t be possible,” she muttered. Byrne was one of the most important westerosi folklorists from the 19th century. There were only two copies of this book, and both of them had been handwritten and illustrated by him.

“You might want to use gloves,” he said taking a pair out of the box and handed them to her.

Sansa didn’t take them; she just stared at him. There were so many things she wanted to say, but the thoughts swirled around in her head.

“How?” she finally asked. 

“How did I get this copy?” He ended her question.

“Yes. I know that Byrne gave one copy to the National Library, but I though he’d kept the other, and that it had been passing through his descendants.”

“That’s true, but his owners had financial problems, so they decided to sell it. And now, you’re the owner.”

“What? No, Petyr, I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”

“Sansa I wouldn't have bought it if I couldn't afford it. I bought it for you. After you left my office, last Monday I contacted the antiquarian booksellers, asking them to find the best folktale book available. They were surprised, since I had never asked for a folktale book nor did I have set a deadline before, but one of them knew that the Byrnes were trying to find a buyer, so it was really easy. This book doesn't belong here. It doesn't match with my other books, so I’m afraid you’ll have to keep it,” he joked.

“Petyr…” She cupped his face.

“Just say yes,” he whispered leaning into his touch.

Sansa smiled. She wanted to have this book.

"Promise me that you really could afford it."

"I promise, sweetling. I'm lucky to make enough money to live comfortably. Don't worry." 

“Okay." She smiled again. "Then, yes. Yes, I love my gift.”

“Good.” He returned her smile and straightened. “Then, it's time to open it." 

She put the gloves on and opened the box. Her hands trembled a little when she pulled out the book. She had never owned a manuscript book, and this was about one of the topics she loved most.

She placed it on the table and caressed the cover with her fingertips. Petyr stood by her side. He didn’t speak, but his presence was comforting. 

Sansa opened the book and checked the index. There were ninety-three folktales in total. The calligraphy was elegant. She read the titles and found out that she knew most of them, but there were several she’d never heard of. She leafed through the pages carefully. They were slightly yellow, but she was glad to see the book was well preserved. Some illustrations occupied whole pages. There were magical creatures and breathtaking landscapes. As she watched them, she marvelled at Byrne's ability to create such powerful images inspired by those stories. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she murmured looking at Petyr.

He leaned forward and kissed her temple.

“I’m glad you like it, sweetling.”

“Now, I’m almost embarrassed of giving you your gifts,” she confessed.

“My gifts?” He looked surprised.

“Yes, I have them in my toiletry bag, but it’s nothing spectacular.” The notebook and the bookmark seemed a small thing in comparison. 

“Sweetling, I’ll treasure anything you give me.” He lifted her chin so she could look him in the eye, and then kissed her on the lips. “I’m looking forward to seeing them.”

“I shall give them to you now,” she offered and smiled when he nodded eagerly. “Why don’t you wait in the living room? I’ll go to fetch them.”

He chuckled.

“You’re doing exactly what I did before, don’t you?” 

“Perhaps,” she replied, hiding her smile.

*

Petyr was sitting on the sofa when she stepped into the living room. She approached him with a nervous smile and handed him the wrapped package. 

“This certainly wouldn't have fitted inside the cake,” he joked putting it on his lap.

Sansa sat next to him, giggling, and watched him tear the wrapping paper.

His amused expression disappeared when he opened the box and pulled out the notebook and the bookmark. Sansa stirred in her seat, suddenly nervous again.

“I’ve bound other notebooks before,” she explained averting her eyes from him. "I chose a green decorative paper since it’s your favorite color. This paper has several shades of green. If you incline the notebook slightly, they seem to flutter. It reminded me of the ocean waves. I thought it might remind you of The Fingers.”

He breathed in, but remained silent.

“And I painted a rose on the bookmark as a nod to the _Collige Virgo Rosas and Other Literary Motifs in Westerosi Literature_ ,” she continued. “Thanks to this book, we talked for the first time.” She’d always be thankful to that book, and to the professor that had asked them to read it. For once, she was glad that a professor had included an out-of-print book in their reading list. Petyr remained silent, so she added tentatively: “I thought the rose would remind you of that day.”

He breathed out then, and she saw his hand tremble when he took the bookmark. He stared at the paint, but his fingers didn’t trail along the rose. Perhaps he feared of damaging it. Sansa couldn’t see his expression but judging by the way his hand had trembled and the way he was breathing, he was touched.

“Are you alright?” she asked, resisting the urge to put her hand over his.

He put the notebook and the bookmark back in the box and placed it on the side table. Her heat beat faster in anticipation. When he turned to her and made eye contact, Sansa couldn’t help but think of ocean waves. His gray-green irises looked deeper now, more intense. They looked like a wave about to crash on a rock.

Petyr cupped her face and said in a hoarse voice:

“Such a special, thoughtful and personal gift you just gave me.” He kissed her lips sweetly.

Sansa breathed out against his lips, relieved. He liked his gifts. She and tilted her head, searching for his mouth again, and Petyr complied. His thumb caressed her cheek as his tongue slipped through her lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him close. He kissed her again, and she hummed. All the time and effort she’d put into binding the notebook and turning a piece of cardstock into a bookmark had paid off. Petyr was touched, and in case his words hadn’t been enough, now he was showing her with this kiss. He seemed determined to assuage any doubts she could have had, and Sansa wasn't going to complain.

He only stopped when he needed to catch his breath, and touched her forehead with his in the meantime. Sansa also breathed in and out slowly. She hadn’t realized that she was panting too.

To her delight, Petyr didn’t pull away when they started breathing normally. He tilted his head and kissed her throat and the spot below her earlobe, the spot that made her melt. She hummed again. 

Sansa didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally pulled away. They stared into each other in silence, until they could breathe normally again. 

“Would you like to eat the cake now?” he suggested then. “We haven’t had a dessert.”

“Sure.” She bit her lip and added: “Though I’d like to ask you something first.”

“Of course.” He took her hand in his. “You can ask me anything.”

She looked down at their hands intertwined.

“Could I stay here tonight? I… I would like to spend a few more hours with you.” She took a deep breath and went on before he could reply: “I’d like to sleep in the same bed with you. Just sleep. But only if it’s okay with you, of course.” She knew that some men didn’t want to share a bed with the girl they started dating unless they were going to have sex.

“Sansa, it’s more than okay.” He smiled and caressed her cheek. “Honestly, I also didn’t want you to leave tonight. Tomorrow is Sunday, so you can stay the whole day, if you want. Or we could go somewhere. It’s up to you. As for sleeping in the same bed with me, it makes me so happy that you suggested it.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “I’d love to sleep next to you. You have nothing to fear. I would never force you to do anything. Never. You have my word.” 

“I know.” She offered him a smile. “I trust you. I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“And I appreciate that.” He pulled his hand away and stoop up. “I’ll bring the cakes.”

“We shall eat them while we’re watching the first episode of _Doctor Baker Mysteries._ ”

“That sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that she's also going to spend the night with him :-)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well :-)

He came back soon, carrying the two treasure trunks, a few napkins and two glasses of water on a tray. He placed it on the side table and approached the TV cabinet. He grabbed the _Doctor Baker Mysteries_ collection and played the first DVD.

The DVD menu appeared on the screen, and a melody filled the room. It was very cheerful, and Sansa started moving her feet to the rhythm unconsciously. 

Petyr didn’t push Play. He walked back to the sofa and sat next to her. Sansa stopped moving her feet. Her mind wandered to the kisses they’d shared earlier, when she’d given her his gifts, and the memory sent a wave of heat throughout her body. She felt like she couldn’t get enough of his kisses and caresses, and this was foreign to her. It was exciting and scaring at the same time.

 _And tonight, I’m going to sleep next to him,_ she thought.

Things could heat up more quickly if they kissed in his bed. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to lay on her back and let him move on top of her. Her breath faltered.

It had felt amazing when he’d pressed his chest to hers as she leaned on the countertop, even though they were fully clothed. What would it feel like to press her bare chest against his?

It would be an important step, not only because it would be the first time she’d be bare before a man, a man she deeply care about (was it too soon to call this love?), but also because Petyr felt insecure about his scar. If he’d showed it to the two women he’d had sex with, it mustn’t have been easy for him, Sansa was certain. It wasn't pleasant to imagine him with other women, but she hoped they had treated him well, that they hadn't made him feel more insecure. If she could find a way to erase his insecurities from his mind, she'd do it without hesitation. 

She wanted to caress his bare chest and show him that it was alright, that she wasn’t repulsed by his scar. She’d slide her hands under his sweater now if he let her. But she feared that it might be too soon, that he might not be ready yet. She didn’t want him to feel pressured to do anything. Perhaps it was best to wait until he took the initiative.

She turned to him when Petyr handed her one of the cakes.

"Thank you," she said. She knew she was a little flushed, and she knew that Petyr could notice it. However, he didn't say anything. He just watched her face with a hint of amusement before reaching for the other cake.

Probably he'd gotten an accurate idea of what she'd been thinking of.

Sansa took a small bite, keeping eye contact and wondering what his first thought had been when she'd told him that she wanted to sleep in his bed tonight. But all thoughts vanished when the sweet flavor filled her mouth. She closed her eyes.

The sponge cake was soft and moist, and the crunchy pine nuts added a perfect contrast. She hummed as the whipping cream melted in her mouth.

“Good?” She heard him ask, his voice almost like a growl.

She opened her eyes again and smiled. He looked mesmerized.

“Yes, ”she said.

He leaned closer. Sansa thought he was going to kiss her, and her stomach fluttered in anticipation, but Petyr stopped before his lips could brush against hers. He touched the corner of her mouth with his index finger.

“You got some whipping cream on your lips, sweetling,” he murmured. "Here."

Sansa remained still as he wiped it and shivered when he licked the whipping cream off his finger.

“So good,” he said using that tone of voice that always spread heat across Sansa’s body. Slowly, his lips curled into a wicked smile, as if he had just done something deliciously sinful.

The memory of his kisses entered her mind once more. She swallowed thickly and put her cake back on the tray. Petyr looked at her with curiosity, but his expression soon transformed into a look of delight when she moved to sit on her heels on the sofa and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Sweetling?” He raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

“I want to kiss you,” she said.

“Then kiss me,” he whispered, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her closer.

However, Sansa placed her index finger on his mouth, not to stop him but to give herself a few moments. It was so tempting to get lost in his kisses and forget about everything else… 

“Just one kiss,” she finally decided.

He chuckled, and his expression seemed to say: _It wasn’t me who leaned in for a kiss, sweetling._ But he’d initiated this when he leaned closer on the pretext of wiping the whipping cream stain off her lips. 

And he knew.

“I promise I’ll behave,” he said, his breath caressing her fingertip as he spoke. He pulled his hands away from her waist and rested them in his lap, which didn’t help at all, since Sansa pictured herself sitting on his lap. The attraction she felt for him had grown more intense with each passing day. She wasn’t used to reacting like this around someone. Now she understood Jeyne’s comments when she talked with Sansa about the boys she’d dated. As she stared at Petyr, she wondered when he’d realized that his relationship with her was different than the others he’d had. She wondered when he’d realized that he wanted more. Had the way his body, his mind, reacted when he was around her caught him off guard? 

She hurried to kiss him before her mind continued wandering.

Petyr kept his word. He didn’t try anything as she kissed him.

“See?” he murmured as Sansa pulled away, and offered her a charming smile. “I can behave.”

Sansa resisted the urge to kiss him again and sat straight up on the sofa. Petyr reached for the remote control with a smug look and pushed play.

The first episode started. They watched it as they ate the cakes. When they finished eating the treasure trunks, he rested his left arm on the top of the sofa without averting his eyes from the screen. Sansa didn’t know who moved first, but at some point, she ended up curling up on his side, and his fingers began tracing patterns on her waist. At first, she felt a tingle in her belly and had trouble focusing on the show. However, his hand didn’t stray from her waist and as the minutes passed, the patterns he was tracing became familiar and the tingling sensation vanished. Soon his caresses lulled her into a calm state. Neither of them spoke until the episode ended.

She pulled away reluctantly when the DVD menu appeared on the screen again and the cheerful melody filled the room.

“How did you like it?” Petyr asked her.

“I loved it,” she said. “The doctor is adorable. I love him.”

“You love him?” He narrowed his eyes, pretending to be jealous.

Sansa giggled.

“Not that way, Petyr. He’s like the grandfather or uncle everyone would like to have. He’s so sweet and cheerful. Don’t tell me that his smile isn’t infectious. He is such an affable man. Who could dislike him? And he dances so well.”

Petyr crossed his arms over his chest as if he felt offended.

“I also dance well, sweetling.”

Sansa giggled again. 

“I know but he was around 80 when he played this role. And look at him! He dances as if he were a young boy. Well, many young boys couldn’t keep up with his pace, in truth.”

“I agree." He smiled at last, dropping his arms, and asked: "Have you watched his last movie? It was released last year."

Sansa shook her head.

“He also dances in that movie,” Petyr explained. “And he’s over 90 now. He must dance everyday to be able to do it. His perseverance is inspiring.”

“Yes." Eustace had said in an interview that he didn't want to quit, that he'd never stopped being passionate about his work. "It’s heartwarming to see him. It brings back memories of when I was a child and watched _The Wizard and Mrs Hickson._ I’m glad this show has several seasons. If the other episodes are as good as this one, it might become one of my favorites of all time.”

"This is one of my favorite shows,” Petyr replied. “Did you guess the identity of the murder?”

“No,” she answered. “Honestly, I prefer not to guess how the mystery stories play out. I like letting them surprise me.”

“Oh, it’s the other way around with me. I love identifying the clues and red herrings. I find it satisfying to guess who the murderer was and how they did it. But I also like it when I cannot guess the ending and this is better than the ending I’d come up with.”

“Did you often guess the identity of the murderers in this show?”

“Yes, but most of the times my hypothesis about how and when they’d done it were wrong.” He smiled and brushed her arm with his in a playful manner. “Besides, as you said, the doctor is adorable. Learning more about him and seeing his interactions with the other characters was as interesting as trying to solve the mysteries. I cared about them, so that definitely helped me be invested in the show.”

“Aw, you just admitted he’s adorable.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a look of fondness on his face.

“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain,” he said feigning seriousness.

Sansa leaned closer and gave him a peck on the cheek, taking him by surprise.

“Don’t worry, Petyr. It will be our secret,” she promised.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this fluffly scene makes you smile. The next chapter will be longer and we'll learn more about them :-)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

They watched two episodes more. This time it was Sansa who consciously pulled herself closer to him when the second episode started, and she could hear a contented sigh escape Petyr’s lips before he wrapped his arm around her waist. They both seemed to have silently agreed that this was the best position to watch the TV. It was funny how their bodies seemed to know better than them what they wanted.

She could get used to this. They hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary today, yet everything they’d done felt special, and Sansa knew without doubt that it wasn’t just the novelty factor.

Yes, this had been the first time they’d cooked together and Zumba dancing and exchanging gifts. Today they’d kissed at last, and Sansa had finally dared to sing for him despite her insecurities, and they’d talked about her fear of peaking public, and he’d made her feel so at ease that she’d been able to let him know how she felt every time her insecurities returned.

Perhaps it had been this, her willingness to open up and reveal her struggles what had made Petyr told her how he felt about his scar, how it still haunted him, many years later. He hadn’t gone into too much detail, but this was a first step. Sansa knew he’d be revealing more of himself as he felt readier, and just like he was letting her set the pace of their physical relationship, she wasn’t going to ask him questions he wasn’t ready to answer just yet. 

They'd accomplished so much today. They were going at their own pace, only doing the things that felt right, and Sansa wouldn’t have it any other way.

“One more episode?” she suggested when the second episode ended, still curled up on his side. She couldn’t see his face, but she could picture his smile when she felt his lips touch the top of her head. 

“How could I deny you?” he murmured. Sansa whined when he pulled away from her. He chuckled: “I need to grab the remote control, sweetling.”

“Couldn’t you just use a stick to push the button?” she asked. She was joking, but the idea didn’t sound completely ridiculous. 

“I could, but I might push the wrong button,” he replied, amused. He pushed play and put the remote control back on the side table.

“I’d take the risk,” Sansa murmured as he rested his back on the sofa.

Petyr turned his head to her and smirked.

“I know I’m irresistible, but you should have a little bit more of self-control, sweetling,” he teased.

She moved to sit at the opposite side of the sofa, trying not to laugh, and said:

“I’ll follow your reasonable advice, Mr. Baelish. From now on, I’ll limit the kisses. Is one kiss a day appropriate or is it too much?” She crossed her arms over her chest and pretended to be considering her question.

“Sansa.” His smirk grew wider, and his eyes seemed to be telling her to behave.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to stop now even though the opening credits had just ended, and the screen had gone black. She raised her feet onto the sofa.

“Perhaps it’s better we kiss just on the weekends,” she said to herself. “Uhm. Yes, I think that’s a sensible decision." 

The smirk didn’t leave his face as he heard her. The flicker in his eyes grew more intense.

“Sansa. Be a good girl.” The last two words sounded like a purr. He’d never used those two words together to address her before, and they stirred something in her lower belly. 

Her reaction must be evident in her face, for he looked utterly delighted, and oh how much she wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. She tried to come up with something ingenious to say. She tried hard, she truly did, but her brain wasn’t cooperating.

He took advantage of it, of course, like the wicked man he was, and began moving closer to her, his movements deliberately slow, until Sansa thought she couldn’t bear waiting any longer. His eyes bore into her, threatening to consume her whole if she just let herself get lost in them. And Sansa wanted to. His gray-green eyes were full of promises, and she wanted him to make them reality. She wanted a pretty picture, one they could paint together.

“Sorry. You were saying?” Petyr murmured when his knees touched her leg.

 _Be strong,_ she thought. 

“I was saying that we should just kiss on the weekends.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but she didn’t succeed.

He leaned forward and paused when his lips were almost touching hers.

“Ah, yes. Kisses,” he murmured. “That was what you were talking about. But I have a question, if I may ask.”

She swallowed. 

“Uhm, tell me.” It was hard to think straight with his body so close.

His face pulled away from hers and he breathed against her neck.

“I was just wondering if you were referring to the kisses on the mouth, or if we’re also limiting the kisses on other body parts. Like this sweet spot below your jawline. Have I told you before how much I love it? Hmm?”

 _Be strong. Be strong._

“No, you haven’t.” Her voice sounded a little strained.

“Well, now I have.” He hummed near her earlobe. “Your neck is so pretty, and you made such beautiful sounds when I suck right here.” He brushed the spot below her jawline with his mouth, and Sansa sucked in a breath. “Tell me, then. What were you referring, sweelting?”

“I was referring to all kind of kisses,” she said. She couldn’t falter now, even though the urge to end this charade was becoming more stronger. 

“Such a shame,” he murmured. “I’ll have to be more selective from now on, considering the circumstances. Hmmm. There are so many places I’d like to kiss in your body. I could use some advice. If you were me, which one would you choose?”

Very few times she’d been asked such a difficult question.

“I couldn’t choose,” she said a little breathless. _Just kiss me on the neck, Petyr._

To her dismay, he began pulling away.

“In this case, I’d have to meditate on this. I hope you understand. I cannot risk making an impulsive decision,” he said.

“Oh, come here!” Sansa couldn’t keep this charade any longer. She put her arms around his shoulders and drew him closer again.

He chuckled and didn’t put up resistance. It seemed he was finally going to kiss her, and she’d already closed her eyes, but he stopped when his face was just a few inches away from hers. Sansa opened her eyes, _why had he stopped?_ and saw him smile, and, oh, this was the smile of someone who felt exultant.

And triumphant. Especially triumphant.

“Are you sure?” he asked in an innocent tone. “I’d hate to be tempting you to do something unreasonable. 

“I think I’ll survive,” she replied running her hands through his hair and kissing him on the mouth. She knew that he’d won and she accepted it, but he didn’t need to act so smug, so when she heard him purring, she tried to ignore the vibration in his chest and the way her body was reacting to the sounds he was making and instead, she moved her hands to his ribs and tickled him.

Petyr jumped, breaking the kiss, and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh when she saw his face. Her action had caught him totally off guard. He’d thought he was in control. He’d been unable to anticipate that she would tickle his ribs.

“You should have seen yourself,” she said giggling. “Omg.”

He narrowed his eyes, and his lips twitched. Sansa knew he was about to turn the tables on her, and that she should be alert, but she couldn’t stop giggling. 

“That wasn’t nice, sweetling. Not at all. You understand that I cannot sit back and do nothing, don’t you?” His tone became a growl.

“Have mercy,” she said still giggling, and raised her arms in a weak attempt to stop him, but he took them and kissed her fingers, one by one, hiding a smile.

She hadn’t expected him to do that, and watched him as her laughter began fading and her breathing returned to normal. Perhaps he wasn’t going to turn the tables right now. Perhaps he was going to wait. He was a patient man, after all. He might try and catch her by surprise.

She was wrong.

Petyr slid his hands into her sleeves, startling her, and began touching her bare forearms lightly.

“No! No! That tickles” She laughed again stirring in her seat.

Petyr moved his hands away from her arms and tickled her waist, covered by her dress, and Sansa laughed harder.

“Do you surrender?” he asked.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Hmmm You don’t sound very convincing.”

“Petyr! I surrender! I surrender!”

The wicked smile was still on his face when he dropped his arms to his sides. Sansa took a deep breath and sat up straight. She felt so light now, she felt so good, and she couldn’t help but give him a genuine smile. A hint of tenderness crossed his features when he saw it.

He returned to his spot on the sofa and grabbed the remote control. The episode had been playing in the background while they were flirting.

“I think I should play it from the beginning,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed.

When the opening credits started again, Petyr wrapped his arm around her waist just like he’d done before they started talking about kisses.

Yes, she could get used to this, she thought, snuggling up closer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hurt/comfort is heavier in this chapter. Petyr opens up a little more. If you're only in the mood for fluff, skip the part that starts with: _She expected him to smile at the compliment._ until _Petyr's smile broadened as he said:_
> 
> _“He opened his backpack (...)"_

“What would you like to do now?” Petyr asked her after the third episode ended.

It was still a little bit early to have dinner, and Sansa didn’t want to watch more episodes today. She was loving it so far and didn’t want it to end too soon. Besides, if they rationed the episodes, there would be so many cozy afternoons cuddling up on the sofa, with Sansa exclaiming _Aww so adorable!_ every time the doctor acted goofy and Petyr rolling his eyes but smiling secretly.

She looked around, trying to think of something they hadn’t done yet, something they could do at his home. Her gaze fell upon the box where she’d put the notebook and the bookmark, and she thought of the book he’d gifted.

An idea entered her mind. Slowly, her lips curved upwards. Yes, that could be a perfect way to spend the rest of the afternoon before dinner. She turned to him.

“You said you had modern books in your bedroom,” she began.

He nodded.

“We could pick up a book," she continued. "A collection of short stories, or poems, or a scene from a novel that gives a sense of closure. Something that can be read as a standalone.” Surely Petyr had a book that fit that description, but if not, any would do, in truth. Even the most terribly boring book in the world. She giggled at thought of Petyr reading an instructions manual aloud. Yes, this was the idea she’d come up with: she wanted Petyr to read aloud to her. She loved his voice. He could have been an amazing audiobook narrator. She pictured his voice dropping an octave as he reached the most emotional scenes. She pictured the smirk in his voice as he read a line of dialogue where the character was saying the opposite of what they meant. He’d have been so good at portraying clever and cunning characters, she thought. 

Petyr had witnessed the expressions on her face as she was lost in thought. He’d raised an eyebrow when she’d started giggling but only broke the silence when Sansa’s lips curled into a broad grin.

“Now you’re scaring me,” he said tilting his head. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing!” she exclaimed.

"Sansa. There's no point in denying it. That grin on your face tells me that you're up to no good."

“You're exaggerating." She laughed. "I was just wondering…”

“Yes?”

“If you could read aloud to me. Only if you want, of course” She decided to be completely honest with him. “I just thought it would be nice to hear your voice telling a fragment of a story or reciting a poem. I love your voice.”

She expected him to smile at the compliment, or to tease her saying something like _my kisses are not enough, are they, sweetling? You want everything from me._ She hadn’t expected his face to contort in what looked like sadness.

Her words had brought back some memories for him, she realized with a pang of guilt. She couldn’t tell if those memories were good or bad, if he missed those moments or if he was remembering something painful, but she wished she hadn’t asked him to read aloud, even thought there was no way she could have anticipated his reaction.

“I’m sorry, Petyr. Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” He managed a smile. “You didn’t say anything wrong, sweetling. I was just remembering the first months after I left Riverrun.”

 _The months after the fight._ Petyr looked as if he wanted to go on but were trying to find the right words, so Sansa waited in silence.

“I felt so lost, after what happened,” he confessed in a quiet voice. He’d dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap, but he wasn’t looking at them. It was as if his memories were flashing before his eyes as he spoke. “I don’t remember my first weeks at the university. I got the recommended reading lists and the course requirements, and even managed to write down some notes as I attended classes, and honestly, I don’t know how. I guess I did them on autopilot, since everything around me felt like covered in mist. Until one day.” Petyr paused and for the first time since he’d started speaking, lifted his head and looked Sansa in the eye. “It was Saturday or Sunday, I don’t remember, but I know I didn't have to go to the university that day, so I was walking around the city center without no destination in mind. I wasn’t paying attention to the buildings I walked past, the signs seemed written in a foreign language, until a building’s façade caught my attention. It didn’t match the other buildings. I wouldn't have looked at it twice. There was nothing that made it stand out, nothing save for the sign on the door. I still remember the words as if I were reading them right now: “Welcome. Come freely. Go safely and find something of the happiness these books bring.”

“Those words are based on the famous quote from Dracula,” Sansa said. 

“Exactly.” Petyr smiled. “It was a library, a very small one. I remember I was surprised to see it. It almost didn’t seem to belong there. Until then I didn’t believe that the universe could send us messages, but when I read those words… I don’t know, I thought that there was something telling me to come in. That perhaps I could find some comfort, some joy in there. Books have always played an important role in my life. They have always been there, in every stage of my life. So I decided to try. My intention was to borrow a book and go back home, but something made me stay longer.” A smile played upon his lips, and this time, it reached his eyes. “Another sign. This time it was nothing enigmatic. It was just an informative message saying that from that day on, every evening at 8.P.M, a retired teacher would read aloud a book: _A Dream of Spring._ Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t read it.” It was one of Robb’s favorite books. He’d even named his dog like one of the characters. 

“It had been a top 100 bestselling book a few years earlier,” Petyr said. “In Riverrun, I’d been seeing it in every bookstore I’d walked in, but for some reason I’d never picked it up. But there, as I stared at that informative message, I thought why not? It was a nice coincidence that the retired teacher was going to start reading the book precisely that day, so I decided to attend. We were around twenty people in total. I didn’t pay too much attention to them. There were just silent companions. The teacher, however, draw my attention. I don’t know how to explain it. He seemed like on of those people how have seen and heard too many things. There was something deep around him, and he emanated calm. Soon, his voice began dissipating the fog that was clouding my brain. Staring at him and listening to him, I felt at peace for the first time in a long time. The words he was saying filled my mind, transporting me to a different world. His words woke up something inside me. At first, it was just like a soft whisper, but it was enough to want to come back the next day.” Petyr breathed in and went on: “So the next day, I came back to the library. I was the first one in showing up. The second one was the teacher. Our eyes met as he walked to the front of the room, and he nodded and gave me a small smile, as if I had told him something using a secret code. I remember I felt as if he’d just read me right, he, a total stranger. I remember I felt a little uncomfortable, and even considered the idea of leaving, but I found myself looking forward to finding out what happened next in the book, and the revelation hit me so hard that it took my breath away. I was looking forward to something, Sansa. At last. After so many days wandering in a labyrinth, trying to find the right path, after so many days feeling empty. It was like finding the end of a thread, like knowing that if I follow it, I could exit the labyrinth, that I could find myself again.” Petyr breathed out before going on. “So I stayed and listened to the second chapter, and I found myself starting to connect with the characters the teacher was bringing life to with his voice. I began feeling what they felt. I began caring for them. And when he finished reading the second chapter, the whisper was now a soft hum, and I knew I was going on the right path. So I came back the next day, and the day after, and the day after. I kept coming back until the teacher finished reading that book. And every day, I was the first in showing up and he was the second one, and he always gave me a smile, and it must sound ridiculous, but I soon started cherishing those brief moments, because I felt understood. I felt heard. And his smiles comforted me in a way I had never thought it would be possible. He never approached me. Perhaps he realized that I wasn’t ready to talk to him. Perhaps he feared that he would scare me away and that his action would dissuade me to come back again. He was a very perceptive man.” Petyr’s lips twitched as he said it. “I don’t know what would have happened if he’d initiated a conversation, but I’m almost certain it would have been counter-productive. So we settled into a routine, and we didn’t break it until the day he finished the book. I was the one who broke it.” Petyr smiled again. “After he finished reading the last chapter, he saw farewell to us, he said it had been a beautiful experience and encouraged us to read aloud to others, to keep the words alive, to conjure images in others’ mind. It was touching, his speech, and I remember I thought that I needed to tell him what those reading sessions had meant to me. So I waited for the other people to leave. He didn’t look surprised when he saw me approaching him. I think that he knew that I’d finally dare to speak with him. We just talked for a few minutes. I told him that listening to that book had helped me going through a hard time, that it had given me something to look forward to every day. I'm not very good at opening up, but I think he understood how much this had meant to me. He told me the books had saved him several times, he said that stories held so much power within them. He said that every story out there had been important for someone at some point, that we humans needed them, that we craved them, in whatever format: books, movies, shows, plays… That our lives didn’t seem complete without them, as if our reality wasn’t enough. He also said that every story we’ve heard or read lived within us, even if we thought we’d forget them.” The smile hadn’t left Petyr’s face as he spoke, and when he finished, he placed his hand over Sansa's and squeezed it. “And do you know what did he do afterwards?”

She swallowed, trying to get rid of the knot in her throat. Hearing what Petyr had felt back then, and how that book had helped him, and hearing what he’d said about stories… His words had touched her deeply. Hearing how important books were for him...

She also believed that every story mattered; stories had also played a significant role in her life. She wouldn’t be the same without the stories she’d read and watched and heard. Every story that had reached her, had transformed her some way. None of them had been a waste of time. She'd become the person she was thanks to her experiences, and the fiction she’d been consuming since she was a child was part of those experiences. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t physically experienced the things she’d read from the books or that she'd watched on TV. She’d lived in many worlds, she’d lived many lives thanks to all of those stories. She'd been on the edge of the seat after reading a chapter or watching an episode; speaking of novels, some days she'd been unable to stop thinking of the scenes she'd read the night before. Stories had comforted her, had made her laugh and cry. Many times, a story had made her feel so alive, and it was such a wonderful feeling.

She placed her free hand over his and offered him a smile, feeling more close to him than ever after what he'd told her.

"What did he do?" she asked.

Petyr's smile broadened as he said:

“He opened his backpack and pulled out a book he’d finished reading that same day. A book published in the 70s that soon became very popular and was made into a TV series.” He told her the title, but she'd never heard of it.

“It was set in the 30s,” he explained. “It tells the memories of young man who had just finished his degree in veterinary and moved to a village to start his first job at the practice of an old veterinarian. Throughout these short stories, we’ll learn about the way of life in that rural area and we’ll know some eccentric characters. Some of them reminded me seemed out of Roald Dahl’s books.” Petyr added with a small laugh before continuing: “The book has some scenes very hilarious, and other more dramatic. You can empathize with the two veterinarians. They feel human. There are no extraordinary events in this novel, no big mysteries, no action scenes, but every time I read it, I feel immersed in that little universe, just like the first time. I’m glad the teacher gave me his copy.

“He gave you his copy?” 

“Yes.” Petyr smiled. “He said it would bring me comfort, that I’d get easily attached to the main characters, and I’d read during certain scenes, and that seeing how they overcame their obstacles would give me strength to overcome mine.” He tilted his head and lifted his hand to touch her hair. “And he was right. This was the first novel I could finish after the fight, and it helped me. It had never failed to bring me comfort every time I’ve needed it.” He paused, brushing her hair from her neck, and added. “I’d like to choose that novel, if it’s okay with you.”

“Do you mean… to read it aloud now?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He dropped his arm and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Don’t worry, sweetling. This book only brings me good memories. I’ll read the first chapter. It’s one of the funniest of the book. I’m pretty sure you’ll laugh when I read the scene where the protagonist meets the old veterinarian.”

He seemed completely sure, but it was the flicker of excitement in his eyes what convinced her that this wasn't a mistake. He really seemed thrilled to read a fragment from this book aloud to her.

“Okay,” she said smiling. “I love animals, so I'm sure I'll love whatever scene you choose. And as I said before, I love your voice, Petyr,” she added, hoping this time her compliment would make him feel good.

“Hmmm you love every part of me, don’t you?” he asked in a seductive tone. 

Sansa laughed, happy to see that it had worked and that he was in the mood for teasing her.

“Ah, yes, Petyr. Your guess is totally right. You’re perfect in any way.”

He lowered his voice as if he were talking to himself:

“I knew it.”

She laughed again and let him savor his victory. She didn't want to tease him, not when he'd just relived those memories. To her delight, he didn't stop smiling as they walked to his bedroom to pick up the book and his reading glasses.

“I can read without them, but they help prevent headaches,” he explained as he grabbed the case.

Sansa didn't say anything, but she felt tenderness upon hearing him trying to justify himself. He was so sweet.

They went back to the living room, and sat on the sofa. Petyr put on his glasses and turned to her. His lips twitched when he noticed her expression.

“Why are you looking at me like this?” he asked

“Awww, it’s just that you look so cute with those glasses!

He shook his head, but couldn't hide that he was pleased by her words.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured.

Following an impulse, she leaned forward and hugged him. She wanted to show him that he'd done the right thing opening up, that he could trust her. Her action startled him, but soon, he was hugging her back, a little awkward at first, then with more conviction. Sansa waited for his body to relax completely before pulling away.

Then. she kissed his cheek.

“Adorable,” she told him.

“Even more adorable that Doctor Baker?” He asked with a grin.

Sansa wanted to cover his face with kisses, _he was so cute,_ but she held back.

“Yes," she answered without doubt. "And that it’s really difficult, Petyr. Believe me.”

He chuckled.

“Then, I’ll take that as a compliment.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "I know you love cuddling," he said as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"You know me so well." She nuzzled his chest.

Petyr hummed as he grabbed the book and flipped through several pages.

"Here it is," he murmured after finding the scene he was looking for. "Ready?"

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Petyr chose to read aloud to Sansa is _All Creatures Great and Small_ by James Herriot.
> 
> As I wrote this chapter, I listened to _To Belong_ by Daughter.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! :-) I think this is one of my favorite chapters so far. I hope you enjoy it :-)

Petyr was right. The scene he’d chosen to read, the scene where the protagonist met the old veterinarian, was fun and light-hearted. Sansa listened to it with her eyes closed and a grin on her face. Petyr kept his arm wrapped around her waist except when he had to flip a page. Then, he turned his head to press a kiss to her temple that almost felt like an apology, and Sansa’s lips widened against his chest as she waited for him to continue reading.

She’d also been right. Petyr could have been an amazing audiobook narrator. His voice conveyed the emotions on the page, and he even used a huskier voice when he read the old veterinarian’s parts. 

The main character seemed a sweet man; he was an idealist. Sansa found it easy to like him. But she also got attached to the old veterinarian. The man was a little peculiar, but that was part of his charming. Among other things, he had an odd sense of order that collided with the young veterinarian’s, who was very organized. They were very different, but they’d end up forming a strong bond; they’d end up being family. Sansa had always liked the stories that portrayed an age-gap friendship; the stories about a young person entering the adulthood whose path crossed with an old person’s. She liked to witness how their relationship evolved, how they got to know each other: their hopes, their inner demons. One might think that only the young person would learn from the older one, but that wasn’t true. It was beautiful to see both of them could learn and grow, how they could bring the best in the other, and how at some point they felt as if the other person had always been there, in their lives. 

This book had some of the elements she loved in a story: animals, age-gap friendship and humor. 

“Would you lend it to me?” she asked Petyr when he finished reading the chapter. 

He took off his glasses and put them in the case.

“Why?”

He hadn’t turned to her, but she was sure he was smiling.

“I’d like to read it,” she answered.

“Hmm. So you’re hooked.” His voice sounded as if he were persuading her to tell him a secret.

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” He placed the case on the side table and turned to her, his eyes shining mischievously. He handed the book to her. “Then, my job here is done.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes, and was going to take it, but he pulled his hand away in the last moment, as if he’d changed his mind suddenly.

“Wait,” he said. “I could continue reading it aloud for you every time you come over my place. That’s it if you can bear waiting. Are you a patient girl, Ms Stark?” That mischievous smile flashed across his face once more.

The vulnerability she’d seen in his eyes before, when he’d told her about his memories, had disappeared completely. Meeting those characters again and reliving those scenes had helped erase the emotions he’d felt when talking about his past. Now it was as if they’d just finished the third episode of _Doctor Baker Mysteries_ and they could still feel the other fingertips against their ribs. No, Sansa corrected herself. It was better because their relationship had moved forward since then. Petyr had trusted her enough to tell her about those memories.

And now, he was in high spirits.

“Hmm, I don’t know, Petyr,” she said. “I’m a patient girl. But listening to one chapter only the days we get to meet here? I think I need an incentive.”

“What?” He feigned being hurt. “Is it not enough the possibility of hearing my voice, the voice you said you loved so much?” He placed his hand on his chest.

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You’d be a great actor, Petyr.”

“Oh, do you think that? Would you pay to see me on the stage, playing a tragedy?”

“Absolutely!”

He looked flattered.

“You’d probably have to hurry to get the tickets, though,” he said. “Especially in the front rows. I know for sure thousands and thousands of women would fight to be as close to me as possible.”

Sansa let out a laugh.

“You’re a narcissist, Petyr!” 

“No, I’m just stating a fact,” he said managing a serious tone. “You haven’t answered my question, sweetling. Is it not enough the possibility of hearing me read a whole book just for you? My offer is very generous. Many women would be thrilled.”

“Thousands and thousands of women,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“I said the truth, Petyr, I love your voice.” She saw him smile. “I guess I just wanted to see your persuasion techniques.”

“Oh.” His eyes seemed to darken after her words. “Persuasion techniques? Yes, I’m very good at that. But tell me, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know.” She managed to keep an inscrutable expression on her face, but her stomach fluttered in anticipation. “Surprise me.”

He licked his lips and leaned closer.

“How about a back massage after each chapter?” He whispered near the corner of her mouth. “Do you like massages, Sansa? 

“I think so.” She shivered. Gods, she loved it when he spoke in a low voice, specially when his body was so close to her.

“What does it mean, sweetling? No one has given you a proper massage?”

“No.” She’d said the truth. “I’ve never gone to a spa or to a physiotherapist.”

He chuckled.

“I’ll have to show you what you’re missing, then.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’ll make it a priority, Ms Stark.”

“Good.” She resisted the urge to pull him closer and tried to focus on the conversation. “What else?”

“What else?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. 

“A chapter and a massage,” she said trying to hide her smile. “What else can you offer me?” She was just joking. Just hearing him read or getting a massage was awesome. But she was curious to see what other ideas he could come up with.

She felt him lean closer. His breath caressed her earlobe when he growled:

“Careful, sweetling, or you’ll become addicted to me.” 

She giggled.

“Perhaps it’s already late, Mr Baelish. I think I’m already addicted to you.”

“Oh, I’m deeply sorry. I don’t think there’s a return point now.”

“I’ll assume the consequences.”

Petyr pulled away. He was smiling too.

“How about a hot chocolate or a tea? After the massage. You could choose a different beverage each time. I have many different types of tea.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said. “I didn’t know you were a tea lover.”

“I like coffee better, but usually when I’m home I drink a cup of tea in the evenings,” Petyr explained. “My favorite is red tea with cinnamon, nutmeg, roasted almonds and orange peel.”

“I like that combination. I’d to try it some time.” 

“How about tonight? I could read another chapter aloud, then give you a back massage and make the tea. I bet you’ll fall asleep so easily afterwards.”

“Ohh I’d love that.” She beamed.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes!” She cupped his face and kissed him. If she’d already been looking forward to tonight, now after hearing him she felt that she couldn’t wait any longer. 

Petyr chuckled against her lips and kissed her back so eagerly that her body leaned backwards. She let out a gasp of surprise but didn’t push him away. She rested her elbows on the sofa and spread her legs wider. Petyr settled between them carefully as he continued kissing her, though his mouth began moving slower against hers. This was the first time he was settled between her legs, and it felt awesome. Sansa didn’t feel intimidated.

He broke the kiss to nibble her jawline lightly.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She titled her head backwards and sighed.

He hummed against her skin and placed his right hand on her ankle.

He had never touched that part of her body before and strangely, the touch felt intimate. Sansa didn’t know why, but her mind wandered to the Austen adaptations on screen she’d seen. How the slightest touch could cause such an intense reaction. She also remembered the last scene from _North and South,_ and the first time Jane had stepped into Mr Rochester’s room in _Jane Eyre._ Those scenes had made her heart pound hard against her chest. Seeing how the tension between the characters reached a climax was so exciting.

Sansa had always thought she’d fit into those novels. If she were a character from them, she’d have fainted the first time the man she loved took off his gloves and touched her bare hands. She imagined Petyr wearing 19th century clothes. What job would he have if he were a character from one of those novels? Probably he wouldn’t come from an aristocratic family, but he’d have managed to amass a fortune, she was certain. A shaky laugh escaped her as those thought entered her mind. Why was she thinking of those things now?

Petyr pressed his lips to her throat, and she could feel his smile against her skin.

“Hmm I confess that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting,” he murmured.

Another laugh escaped her; she couldn’t help it.

“It wasn’t you. It’s just that some funny thoughts came to my mind.”

Petyr lifted his head to look her in the eye and pressed his lips together as if trying to suppress a smile.

“You’re _thinking_ while I kiss you? Tsk Tsk.” He shook his head as if he were disappointed. 

“Well, you started it when you touched my ankle.” She giggled.

“How is that possible?” His fingertips brushed over her ankle lazily. The flicker intensified when Sansa sucked in a breath. “Interesting,” he muttered. “I guessed this would be a sensitive spot for you, but I hadn’t anticipated it would be so sensitive. Tell me, sweetling. What wicked thoughts were crossing your mind as I was doing this?” His fingers traced the same path across her ankle than before. “What wicked thoughts are crossing your mind now? Tell me.”

Sansa’s breathing had quickened. So it wasn’t casual that he’d caressed her ankle. He hadn’t chosen it just because it seemed a safe choice, because he’d believe that she wasn’t going to stop him. He’d chosen it because he knew it was a sensitive spot, like the wrists or the spot below her jawline.

“I was just remembering some scenes from Jane Austen’s works, _North and South,_ and _Jane Eyre._ ”

“Oh. Would you like me to be your Mr. Darcy or your Mr. Rochester?” he teased.

She raised a hand to caress his hair. 

“No,” she answered. “I’d like you to be my Petyr.”

The amusement left his eyes. Something stirred in his eyes, and even though it seemed impossible, Sansa sensed that her words had hurt him.

“Oh, no, no, Petyr, I didn’t want to make you sad.” She started peppering kisses across his face, but he pulled away.

“You didn’t make me sad, Sansa. I’m touched.” He reached out to stroke her hair. “I’ll happily be your Petyr.” He looked as if he wanted to add something else, but his words had stuck in his throat, so he kissed her on the mouth instead, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and heard him groan when she caressed the nape of his neck. Gently, he began pushing her down on the sofa. Sansa let him guide her. She wasn’t afraid. She knew he would stop if she asked him to.

Her heart fluttered when her head touched the sofa arm. She was lying on her back and he was on top of her. He wasn’t resting his weight on her, but she could feel his stomach against her, and she could also feel his semi erection. She wondered if the other times they’d kissed he’d also been semi hard.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmured kissing her cheek. 

“Yes.”

His hand traveled up her leg slowly until it touched the hem of her dress, and she shivered under him. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

His hand slid up until it touched her panties above her waist. Sansa breathed out shakily. His hand was so warm.

Petyr met her eyes. Behind the lust, she also saw kindness in his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’d like to cover your body with kisses, sweetling. Just like this, with our clothes on. Would you let me?”

“Yes.” She raised a hand to caress his hair, and he smiled softly.

“You can ask me to stop, and I’ll do. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. To her surprise, he pulled away and rose to her feet.

“Where are you…?” She paused when saw him grab his mobile. A violin song filled the room. It was beautiful. He put his phone on the side table and moved on top of her again. 

“Relax,” he whispered. “Let the music lull you into a peaceful state."

“I don’t know if I’ll be able with you kissing me,” she confessed.

He chuckled and gave her a peck on the nose.

“Try it. This song is so soothing, it's like a balm. It's warm, and emotional, just like the caress of a lover. Violin music if perfect for kissing.” His mouth traveled down her throat, and Sansa’s lips parted.

“Do you think so?” 

“Yeah.” He captured her lips with his, and Sansa closed her eyes. His mouth moved to the rhythm of the music. When he pulled away, she tried to catch her breath. He reached for her right hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. “Violin music is also perfect for making love.” Slowly, he kissed her neck, her throat, and her collarbone. When his lips brushed her collar dress, he stopped and lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Would you like to listen to music while making love for the first time, sweetling?”

“Yes.” When she was younger and dreamed of finding true love, she’d imagined how her first time would be and she’d pictured the scene with songs playing in the background.

He smiled.

“I could make a list with the most beautiful songs for our first time,” he told her.

“I’d like that. So much.” She returned his smile.

“When you’re ready, I’ll make it good for you, Sansa. I promise.”

“I know.”

His lips touched her dress again. Slowly he began planting kisses on her chest and between her breasts. “You’re so beautiful.” He tilted his head and brushed the side of her right breast with his lips. He met her eyes for a moment, and she knew he was asking for permission. She nodded, squeezing his hand gently. Petyr’s lips caressed her breast and her nipple just when the music grew more intense, and Sansa fought the urge to close her eyes. She knew she couldn't follow a conversation now, no matter how hard she tried. Emotions stirred in her chest, and she couldn’t think. Her breathing was ragged. When he kissed her other breast, she arched her back and moaned.

“That’s it, sweetling. Feel me.”

“Petyr.” She ran her left hand through his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. “I… I need…”

He began rocking back and forth. He was hard now. He was moving slowly, but the friction caused a wonderful sensation in the back of her head and in her lower belly.

"Is this what you needed?"

“Oh.” She moaned. “Yes, please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Look at me,” he asked. He was panting.

She obeyed. He also seemed to get trouble keeping his eyes open, but when he stared into hers, the intensity of his gaze took her breath away.

“So beautiful.” He reached for her other hand as he kept moving.

By instinct, she began moving her hips too, and the pleasure increased. It must be more pleasant for him too because she felt him shudder above her and saw his face contort in pleasure.

“Sansa. Ah. You feel so good." He exhaled. "Can you imagine how good will it feel when we do this without any layers between us? When I’m inside of you?”

_Oh, gods._

“Petyr. I’m…”

“Yeah. Come for me. Don’t look away. I want to see your eyes before… before…” He tightened his jaw. He was close too.

The song hit the highest note as relief washed over her, and the melody, and the rocking motion, and the friction, and the sounds Petyr were making filled her mind as her body shook. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. In the middle of the waves of the physical sensations and emotions she was experiencing, she felt Petyr still and heard him grunt above her.

“Sansa.” He buried his face in her neck and breathed out.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Finally, Sansa released his left hand and caressed his back. 

“Hmm.” He made a contented sound.

She smiled.

“That was wonderful,” she whispered.

He pushed himself up and looked at her. He smiled lazily; his face was so relaxed. Sansa gave him a fond smile.

“It was more than wonderful, sweetling.” He pecked her lips and pulled away. Sansa saw then that there was a stain on the front of his trousers. He followed the direction of her gaze and chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to take another shower.”

She giggled.

“I’ll have to take another shower too,” she told him.

“Since you haven’t brought a pair of pajamas, you could use one of mine.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”

He chuckled again and stood up. She didn't think she could rise to her feet now. Her legs still felt weak.

“I’m a very generous man, sweetling. Well, what would you like to eat for dinner?”

“Could we fry potatoes? It’s been a long time since I ate homemade fried potatoes.”

“Sure,” he answered. “We could make a bacon cheese omelet too.”

“Ah, yes, that sounds delicious!”

His face lit up upon hearing the enthusiasm in her voice.

“Then, that’s what we’ll have for dinner.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope these two make you smile <3

Petyr led her to his bedroom so she could choose the pajamas.

“I hope you can find one you like,” he said opening a drawer.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Sansa offered him a smile. “Sometimes I’ve ended up buying men’s pajamas because I liked the design or the fabric better.”

“Really?” He returned her smile.

“Yes. My favorite one is a men’s pajamas with a flying saucer printed on the top and the sentence: _The truth is stranger than fiction._ ”

“I’d have chosen another sentence,” he said.

“Which one?”

“ _I’d like to be abducted,_ ” he answered with a smirk, and she could tell he was joking. “Now, seriously, I think that statement is true. The truth is stranger than fiction, and there are things we cannot comprehend. Do you believe in UFOs?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Perhaps the aliens don't look like the way we imagine, but I think we’re not alone in the universe and our technology is not advanced enough to find out the truth.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Petyr said. “If there’s an extraterrestrial intelligent civilization out there, and they are more powerful than us, it’s best not to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Yes, you’re probably right, but if there was a safe way to find out the truth, I’d like to know. There are so many enigmas in our universe. We haven’t even uncovered the mysteries of our planet.” She thought of the sea. "We don’t know what creatures live at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve watched several speculative documentaries about it,” Petyr commented. “What mysteries are hidden in the ocean? Is there any truth to the legends about mythological sea creatures? The kraken, the mermaids, Charybdis. Thankfully, it seems we don’t have nothing to fear. If there are terrifying creatures at the bottom of the ocean, they cannot hurt us. They wouldn’t survive if they tried to ascend. And we cannot reach them either. We could say we live in different worlds and there’s a barrier we cannot cross.”

That was reassuring, though a part of herself would love to know what mysteries were hidden there. 

“If you ever had the opportunity, would you descend in a cage to the deepest point reached by a man?” she asked him.

“No. I’d prefer to put a camera and see the live broadcast," he said chuckling.

“Yes, me too,” she confessed.

He shook his head and turned to the wardrobe.

“We are made for adventure, aren’t we?” he joked as he began pulling out the pajamas.

Sansa watched him spread them out on the bed. A rainbow of dark gray, blue, green, black covered the counterpane. 

All the pajamas had been carefully folded and they looked as if they’d just been ironed. Her pajamas, on the contrary, always had small creases, though she had to admit that she put them away any which way.

“Aw this one is very cute.” She pointed at a bird design cotton pajama. 

Petyr turned his head to look at it. 

“Ah, I had almost forgotten about this one. Do you like it?” When she nodded, he added: “I don’t remember where or when I bought it. I don’t even know why I bought it. It’s very different from my other pajamas.”

Sansa could see why he’d said that. The others were plain cotton pajamas. Well, except one. Sansa’s gaze fell upon it and she bit back a laugh when she read the sentence printed on the front of the shirt. 

_I strive to look elegant every day._

Yes, definitely it suited him.

“I’ve barely worn it,” Petyr continued apparently oblivious of the effort she was making not to laugh. His eyes were still fixed on the bird design cotton pajama.

Sansa averted her gaze from that sentence and looked at him.

“Oh, why not? Those little birds are lovely, and the fabric looks very soft.” She came closer and reached out to touch it. “Yes, it’s so soft.” She looked back at him.

Petyr smiled.

“It seems you’ve made your choice already.” He stepped forward and stood by her side. 

She nodded. 

“Which one should I choose?” he asked putting his hands on his waist.

Sansa’s gaze returned to the pajamas with the sentence printed on the top unconsciously. 

“Hmm I knew you’d choose that one,” he murmured.

She turned to him and saw his lips twitch.

“How did you know?”

“I guessed you’d think the sentence was funny,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. “Tell me, Sansa. Do you think I’m one of those men who look at themselves in every glass surface?” 

She pictured him stopping in front of the storefronts and mirrors and nodding at himself with a smug look on his face.

“Well, I’ve seen a kiss mark on the bathroom mirror,” she joked.

“Oh you’re so wicked.” Petyr leaned forward and tried to tickle her ribs, but Sansa stepped back laughing.

“No! You know I am ticklish!” she exclaimed.

His lips quirked up when he heard those words, and Sansa knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

“No, wait.” She began walking backwards before he even took one step forward, even though she knew it was pointless. There was no place she could hide; Petyr would tickle her sooner or later. He was the wicked one, she thought folding her arms across her chest.

He took a step forward, and another, and another one, his eyes shining mischievously, and he didn’t stop until Sansa’s back touched the wall. She gasped.

The corner of his mouth curled into a devilish smile.

“You look terrified,” he said.

She was trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know why,” he continued in an innocent tone. “I’ve never tickled you.”

Liar.

Sansa straightened, her arms still folded across her chest.

“Then it must be the man I met at the university library the one who tickled me on a sofa,” she said in a casual tone.

His eyes flickered. He rested a hand on the wall.

“What man?”

“A man with grey temples and eyes like the sea,” she answered. “We were searching for the same book and there was only one copy available.”

He leaned forward.

“Oh, and what did he do?”

“He gave it to me. He said I seemed to need it more than him.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” he murmured, a smile upon his lips.

“He was a gentleman.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Hmm.” He dropped his arm, a pensive expression on his face, and Sansa knew he was up to no good. “Would a gentleman do this?” He leaned forward again and began tickling her.

“Petyr!” She grabbed his arms, trying to stop him but she was laughing so hard that it was difficult.

“Did he do this?” he asked, not bothering to hide his smile.

“Yes!” she answered laughing. Her attempt to stop him wasn’t working, so she decided to try a new strategy. She moved her hands down to his ribcage and began tickling him back. 

She was pleased to see Petyr stepping back quickly, laughing too.

“I think I’m a bad influence, sweetling. You’re learning to win by cheating. Where is the sweet girl that asked me to play fair?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve corrupted me.”

Something flickered in his gaze. 

“Good,” he said, his voice barely a growl. He approached her once more and leaned in to kiss her. Sansa closed her eyes in anticipation but opened them again when she heard him say: “Wait.”

She met his eyes. Petyr was smirking. 

“I’m not going to risk being tickled again,” he said grabbing her wrists.

She smiled. He was holding her wrists lightly. She could pull her hands away if she wanted.

“Okay,” she said.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned, his smile betraying his serious tone.

“I won’t, Petyr. You can trust me,” she said sweetly.

“Oh, what I’ve done to you?” He feigned a sorrow tone. “You’re lying to me, and I would have believed you if I didn’t know any better.”

She giggled.

“I won’t try anything, Petyr,” she assured him. “I’m saying the truth.”

“Hmm.” He leaned forward, and Sansa held her breath when his lips brushed against her earlobe. “I confess I wasn’t sincere earlier.”

“What do you mean?” 

“When I asked you to choose a pajamas for me I knew you’d choose that one because I caught you trying not to laugh when you read that sentence,” he whispered in her ear.

Of course. How had she been so naïve? She should have known that her effort not to laugh wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“And you’re willing to wear it tonight, knowing that every time I see that sentence, I’ll picture you kissing a mirror?”

“Ah, the things we do for love,” he commented, a soft smile upon his lips.

Sansa’s lips trembled. She’d been ready to make a funny remark, but his words had caught her off guard. Something warm filled her. Had he just said what she thought? 

“Petyr…” she murmured, not knowing what to say.

His thumb brushed over the corner of her mouth, the smile still on his face.

“It’s alright,” he murmured before covering her lips with his. He kissed her unhurriedly, something she was thankful for, since her movements were now a little clumsy. His words still echoed in her mind. _The things we do for love._ He’d said those words after they’d been joking, but Sansa knew that sometimes it was easier to open up and being honest while acting playfully. 

“Are you alright?” he asked her softly after pulling back.

She smiled at him.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He caressed the corner of her mouth with his thumb once more. “Then, grab the pajamas with those lovely birds and go to take a shower before I change my mind and hide the pajamas with the sentence _I strive to look elegant every day_ where you can't find it.” His eyes shone with amusement.

“You wouldn’t be capable of that.”

“Oh, I would.” He lightly trailed his fingertips across her ribs.

“Petyr!” She ran away before he could tickle her again, her laughter filling the room. She stopped for a moment to grab the pajamas and turned her head to him. Petyr was still in the same spot than before. She couldn’t be sure because she hurried to turn away and leave the room, but she was almost certain that she’d seen a smug grin on his face.

*

“I need to ask you something very important and I want you to think about your answer carefully,” he told her later, while they were peeling and slicing the potatoes. They were wearing the pajamas she’d chosen. Every time she looked down at the sentence printed on his shirt, she couldn’t help but smile.

She glanced up and caught him trying to hide a smirk. 

“Okay,” she said.

“Do you prefer your omelet to be tender and moist or dry?”

“If tender and moist mean runny, then I prefer a dry omelet,” she answered.

“No! That’s utterly atrocious.” He stared at her, pretending to be horrified. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to overcome this, sweetling.”

Sansa put the knife beside the potato she was peeling and wrapped her arms around his torso, carefully not to touch his pajama with her hands. She didn’t want to stain it.

“I’m sorry,” she said placing a kiss on his cheek. “We’ll have to learn to live with this.”

“It will be hard.” He tilted his head to find her lips.

Sansa giggled against his mouth.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well :-) Perhaps it takes me a while to post the next chapter because I have to do some brainstorming to come up with more scenes (the last scene I've envisioned is the massage scene).

Sansa only agreed to leave the kitchen in order to set the table when Petyr promised her that he’d cook her omelet to her liking.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked as he beat two eggs in a bowl.

She tilted her head, feigning hesitation. Her gaze fell upon the tray with fried potatoes. They’d just removed them from the pan. 

“Hmm. I’m just wondering why suddenly you seem in a hurry to be left alone.”

He followed the direction of her gaze.

“What? Do you think I’m going to take the opportunity to sneakily eat some potatoes? You wound me, sweetling.”

She’d prevented him from grabbing a potato slice while she was removing them from the pan. _They’re so hot. You’ll burn your fingers!_ she’d told him. So why should she believe him now?

“Hmm.” She opened a drawer and pulled out the tablecloth.

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow.

She pressed her lips together to hide a smile.

“Okay, Petyr. I’ll trust you.” She closed the drawer and turned to grab the napkin holder.

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

Sansa turned away. She’d barely crossed the threshold, when she heard him curse.

“Are you alright?” she asked peeking her head through the door.

Petyr was licking his index finger. There was a potato slice on the countertop. He lifted his gaze slowly.

“There’s no point in pretending that I wasn’t trying to eat a potato slice, right?” he asked.

Sansa had to make an effort not to smile. There was something childish in his expression. 

“Yeah, I caught you red-handed,” she told him in a sweet tone. She stepped into the kitchen and put the tablecloth and the napkin holder on the countertop. “Let me see,” she asked taking his hand in hers.

“It’s nothing. I’m alright.” He assured her.

Sansa watched his fingertip. She saw herself that he was right, but asked him to put his hand under the tap of running water.

“It’s not necessary,” he said, but she didn’t listen to him.

She held his hand as the water cooled his skin, and then she dried his hand with a paper towel. Petyr watched her in silence, his lips lightly curved upwards.

She placed a kiss on the palm of his hand when she finished.

“Alright.” She released his hand and turned to grab the tablecloth. She handed it to him. “Could you put it on the table? I’ll put the rest.” The first thing she’d take to the table would be the tray with fried potatoes.

He didn’t take it. He seemed amused.

“Do you think I’m so stupid to try and grab another potato slice?”

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” she replied putting the tablecloth on his chest and giving him a soft pat on the leg, dangerously close to the butt.

Surprise flashed across his face.

“Sansa?” He leaned forward. A delight expression colored his features. “If I had known you’d give me a pat on the butt to make me behave, I’d have been a bad boy much earlier.”

“It was not on the butt,” she replied, her cheeks feeling warm. In truth, she’d wanted to give him a pat on the butt, but she’d held back at the last moment.

“No,” he agreed, “but only because you held back.” He took her hand, not breaking eye contact. “You feared I wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes,” she admitted. 

“You shouldn’t have worried. I don’t like spanks, but a soft pat or a gentle squeeze is different.” He said as he placed her hand on his butt. “Here." He smiled at her. "That’s what you intended, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Her heart began beating faster. Tentatively, she gave him a gentle squeeze and saw him close his eyes and let out a soft moan. The warmth she felt in her cheeks began descending across her neck. Petyr opened his eyes and offered her another smile. “You hand feels heavenly, sweetling.” 

“I’m glad.” Slowly, she moved her hand up and caressed his lower back. She wanted to slide her hand under his shirt and touch his back, and his abdomen, and his chest, but perhaps it was too much.

“Hmm So good.” He let out another moan, this time a little louder. If he wanted her to forget about the dinner, he was succeeding. 

“Petyr.”

“Hmm. Yes?”

“May I touch your back?” Her fingers stopped at the bottom of his shirt. She decided to start there and see how he reacted.

His lips curved upwards slightly before he nodded.

She gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, she slid her hand under his shirt. She felt him hold his breath as her hand ascended. His skin was so warm. Sansa wanted to explore the rest of his body, but she knew she needed to go slow. If he liked this and felt comfortable, he’d feel more at easy when he showed her his scar.

“Are you alright?” she asked him.

He exhaled.

“Yes.” His face broke into a smile as he breathed in. “Yes.”

“Good.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek as her hand continued caressing his bare skin. “Hmm this is so pleasant, Petyr. Your skin is so warm.” 

“Do you really like this?” He asked, and she sensed a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “I’m not a young boy anymore, and I’m not a brawny man.”

She pulled away slightly to look him in the eye.

“You’re perfect, Petyr. Perfect. I don’t want a brawny man. I don’t want anyone else. Don’t you know by now that I only want you?” 

He licked his lips, and words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He averted his gaze from her. Sansa didn’t push it. Her hand reached his shoulder blade, and she pulled herself closer to him. Petyr breathed against her face, as if he were relieved that she didn’t ask him to say anything. Sansa rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

They remained like this until he broke the hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead. Sansa nodded. She hoped he'd believed her. She didn't want him to feel insecure about his looks. She'd never been attracted to brawny men, and she wouldn't change a thing of his appearance. Only his scar; not because she thought it was ugly, but because of all the pain and sorrow that was associated with it. Once more, she wished she could change the past. 

Petyr cleared his throat and gestured to the tablecloth.

“I’m going to put it on the table. I’ll be right back.”

“No, she said, and managed a playful tone when she added: “I trust you. I know you won’t try to eat another potato slice.” She came closer and gave him a soft pat, this time right on the butt. “You’re so sexy, Petyr. I hope I can convince you of this.”

His eyes flickered. There was hunger in his gaze, but she was touched when she saw a hint of gratitude too.

“I think you’re on the right track, sweetling.”

*

“Is the omelet cooked to your liking?” he asked her later, as they ate their dinner.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Say it again.”

“Yes, the omelet is cooked to my liking.”

“So your concerns were absolutely unjustified, weren’t they?”

She huffed.

“You’re enjoying this, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” He didn’t bother to hide the amusement in his voice. He gestured to the tray with fried potatoes. “Do you like them too?”

“Yes, they’re perfect.” She reached out to take another potato slice. “I hadn’t eaten homemade fried potatoes since I visited my parents.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything. Sansa sat up straight.

“As for what you said when we were making the treasure trunks…”

“Sansa, it’s alright. He cut her off gently. 

He thought she was trying to tell him that she didn’t want him to visit her family.

“Petyr.” She offered him another smile. “I was going to say that I won’t let my family to be rude to you.”

“What? Do you mean…?”

“When you meet my parents again and when I introduce you to my siblings,” Sansa finished the sentence for him.

“Oh.” His mind still seemed to be processing her words. “Oh.”

Sansa leaned over the table.

“It will probably take a while before we go together to Winterfell, but I wanted you to know. I know you said you don’t get easily offended, but I won’t let Arya or anyone else treat you badly. If someone does, we’ll leave. Period” She reached for his hand. “You are part of my family now, Petyr, and I won’t let them hurt you.”

His eyes traveled down to their hands before meeting her gaze. He swallowed.

“This means so much,” he said. “Family," he paused as if trying to get used to that word. "It’s been long since the last time it meant something to me. Family means that you are not alone, that there’s someone watching over you, even if they're not physically there.” He interlaced his fingers with hers.

It pained her to see no one had been there for him in a long time. 

“You're not alone anymore, Petyr," she told him softly. "But it’s alright if you don’t feel ready to use that word." It took time to consider someone your family.

“No,” he shook his head, and squeezed her hand as if trying to prove she'd read him wrong. “This is the first time in years I can use the word and it doesn’t sound empty. You, Sansa. You are my family now.”

She stared into his eyes and knew he wasn’t saying it just to make her feel good. He meant it. The realization made something warm fill her chest. They’d watch over each other. They’d take care of each other. Family meant bonds, meant trust, and love, and hope. It meant to see the best in someone and bring it out.

Petyr wouldn’t be alone anymore,” she thought squeezing his hand back.

She didn’t add anything else. Slowly, she removed her hand from his and drank water from her glass. Petyr watched her with a contented expression. When she put the glass on the table, he grabbed a potato slice and leaned back in his chair.

"Delicious. This must be one of the best dinners I’ve ever had.” 

“I agree,” she said.

They ate in silence for several minutes until Sansa broke it to ask:

“Have you ever thought what you would do for a living if you didn’t work as a professor?”

“I’d have liked to be an actor,” he answered as he grabbed a bread slice.

“Oh.” She looked at him with interest. “What roles would you like to play?”

“Sexy villains,” he said before taking a bite of his bread slice.

She laughed.

“Oh, that would suit you perfectly,” she told him.

“Do you think so?” He raised his eyebrows in a seductive manner.

“Yes. I’ll tell you a secret.” She leaned over the table, and Petyr mirrored her movement, his eyes flickering with curiosity. “I usually have crushes on the villains.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Loki, Lex Luthor, the young Magneto, Janson.”

“Janson?”

“From _The Maze Runner_ series,” she explained. 

“I haven’t watched those movies.”

“We could watch them together sometime.”

“So you can enjoy watching that Jason,” he teased her.

“It’s Janson,” she corrected him with a laugh, though it was evident that he’d said his name wrong on purpose. “And yes.” There was no point in denying it.

“What does he look like?”

“Grey hair, blue eyes, slender figure, light stubble,” she recited. 

"From your description, he must look like me."

Yes, now that she though about it, there were some similarities in their physical appearances.

“But he’s manipulative and has no morals. Honestly I wouldn’t like to meet him in real life.”

“Though you cannot help but be attracted to him in fiction,” he finished.

“Yeah. Producers shouldn’t choose handsome actors to play the villains,” she complained trying to hold back a grin.

Petyr laughed.

“Oh, you seem absolutely mad at it.”

“I am.” She pressed her lips together when the corners of her mouth began curving upwards.

“Perhaps I could help you,” he said. “I could send some letters to the people I know in the Cinema Industry, telling them about your problem. I firmly believe there should be a rule that forbid sexy villains in fiction. On second thought, I think actors shouldn’t play villains at all. Beauty is subjective. There would be always someone who saw the sex appeal in them. They should be animated characters.” He nodded to himself, his expression serious and rose from his chair. “I’ll go write them right now.”

Sansa burst into laughter.

He sat down again laughing too.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you all are doing well <3
> 
> As I said in the previous chapter, I've been trying to do some brainstorming, but unfortunately, I haven't come up with more ideas, so I've been weighting my options. I could write a couple of chapters more, one focus on their first time, and the marking this as complete, or I could write them and leave it as incomplete in case I come up with more scenes in the future. I'd love to hear your opinions, but only if you feel like leaving a comment, of course. Either way I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading! :-)

After dinner, they put the cutlery in the dishwasher and cleaned the tablecloth. The sky was completely dark now. If she hadn’t asked Petyr if she could stay here tonight, she’d have probably left already.

She was glad she’d asked him.

They went back to the living room, and Petyr turned on the floor lamp. He sat on the sofa and held out his hand. Sansa took it smiling and sat next to him. Petyr took his shoes off, rested his back on the sofa arm and put his feet up. He began caressing her arm with his fingertips.

“You asked me about what I’d do if I didn’t work as a professor,” he said softly. “What about you? Have you thought what you’d do if you didn’t work as a professional reader for children’s book publishers?” 

Sansa propped up her cheek with her elbow on the top of the sofa.

“Actually no. I love my job and I’m grateful I could find it. Other students have to deal with a job they don’t like to pay their bills. Being a professional reader has hard parts like every job. Some publishers I work for accept unsolicited manuscripts, so authors can submit their manuscripts without an agent. Several of them are really good, and it’s so rewarding to send the publisher a report recommending their publication. But others don’t fit the popular market needs, or the plot doesn’t match the writing style. There are books whose language is too complex, or too corny and overly sentimental.”

Petyr laughed.

“Too corny? How? Do they use diminutive suffixes in every name?”

“Almost,” Sansa said. She didn’t want to sound mean, but she was saying the truth. She’d read several manuscripts like this. “Some people start writing stories for children thinking it’s very easy. They think they should use their books to moralize their audience, and they’re not subtle about it. They write moralizing endings, like in the fables.”

“I thought authors didn’t write moralizing endings nowadays,” he said in disbelief.

“Well, the publishing houses I work for don’t publish those kinds of books to be honest. Some of them even publish children’s books with irreverent humor, and they’d been criticized for it. I guess those people have never read The Witches by Roald Dahl. They’d be mad at the ending.”

“I think that ending is perfect,” Petyr said. “And it’s curious that when I read it as a child, I didn’t find the ending bittersweet, but most adults I knew that had read it, did so, on the contrary.”

“I didn’t find it bittersweet either,” Sansa replied. “I think Roald Dahl really knew about child psychology. He knew how they thought, how they saw the reality. I always felt understood when reading one of his books.”

“Me too.”

They remained silent for some seconds. Sansa had never found someone who liked this author as much as her. It was incredibly beautiful how books could make you feel closer to someone. 

“I guess you’ve had to reject many manuscripts,” he said after a while in a quiet tone.

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s the hardest part of my job,” she confessed. “I know how much effort and times go into writing a story. I’ve written some short stories myself, though I’ve never shown anyone.” She went on before Petyr could interrupt her. She knew he wanted to ask her about those stories she’d written, but she didn’t want to forget what she was about to say: “The publishing industry is a very competitive world. Every week there are new releases. In the largest bookstores, books only last a couple of weeks in the new release section. It’s hard to keep up with all the upcoming books and new releases you might be interested in if you don’t usually check the publishers’ websites, or some book blogs or channels.”

“I usually go to a small bookstore, fifteen-minute ride from here. The owner knows the genres I like and he keep me updated.”

“I like going to several bookstores,” Sansa said. “There’s a children’s bookstore I absolutely love. It looks like a fairy tale cabin. It’s so colorful, and there are figurines beside the shelves and cozy armchairs. There’s also a bowl with candies and chocolate mini bars on the counter, and you can pick one for every book you purchase, no matter if you are an adult or a kid.”

“And of course, you never refuse to grab some candies.”

He knew her so well.

“I have a sweet tooth,” she said smiling.

“I know. You ate a lemon cream cookie shortly after we met each other, remember?” he teased.

Sansa blushed, remembering how nervous she’d been. 

“Oh gods, I acted so awkwardly,” she said covering her face with her hands.

“What? Why do you say that?” Petyr leaned closer and gently pulled her hands away.

Sansa met his eyes.

“Because I was so nervous,” she answered.

“Bah, that’s completely normal. It was the first time you spoke to a sexy professor,” he joked.

“Petyr!” She giggled. “I’m serious.”

“Me too.” He took her hands and kissed them. “You were perfect, Sansa. I enjoyed talking with you so much. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to accompany me to my office after the movie.”

She smiled. She still felt a little embarrassed, but she felt more at ease knowing that he had really enjoyed having a coffee with her.

His lips twitched.

“Now, tell me about those stories. The stories you’ve written.”

She breathed a laugh. She knew he wouldn’t forget asking her.

“They were nothing special,” she warned him.

“Don’t say that, please. They’re special because you write them.”

She smiled again. He was so sweet.

“Okay,” she said. “I started writing when I was a kid. I wrote stories inspired by Enid Blyton’s books. Stories about a group of children that lived amazing adventures. They found treasures in caves, investigated stolen woods, deciphered secret messages… I wrote those stories by hand in the summer. I reused old class notebooks.”

“That’s adorable.” His fingers began tracing patterns on her arm again, a soft smile upon his lips.

Sansa blushed. 

“As a teenager, I wrote short stories inspired by Agatha Christie’s books. Stories inspired by Poirot, and Tommy & Tuppence short story collections.”

“You went from writing kid’s stories to crime fiction,” he said.

“It was a natural progression.” She laughed. “Enid Blyton wrote mystery stories. Besides, I began reading Agatha Christie’s novels when I was around eleven.” 

“I see. I began reading her novels a bit later,” he told her. “I was so hooked. I read every novel in a couple of days.”

“Yes. Her books are addictive.”

“What else?”

“Sorry?”

Petyr smiled and specified:

“What else did you write?”

“Nothing else. I stopped writing when I started the university.”

“That’s a shame,” he said. “You should write again, if that made you happy.”

“It did,” Sansa admitted. Writing those stories had brought her so much joy when she was a child and later, as a teenager. “Perhaps when I finish my degree.”

Petyr offered her another smile.

“I’d like to read them, if you’re not opposed to the idea.”

“Okay. But only if you let me read yours,” Sansa said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Why are you so certain that I write fiction? Maybe I just write academic essays.”

“Most people that study literature have written fiction at some point,” she replied.

He chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re correct.”

“Will you let me, then?”

“I’m afraid I have never written a whole story, only scenes that pop into my mind.”

“That’s alright. I’d like to read them, regardless.”

“Then, I guess I’ll have to pull out the box where I keep them,” he commented, a half smile on his face.

“Thank you!” Sansa threw her arms around his shoulders.

Petyr chuckled, hugging her back.

“You could take the box to your place and read them whenever you want,” he suggested after she broke the hug.

“Oh! Really?”

“Yes.”

“That would be awesome!”

They continued talking for a little while. Petyr asked her a few questions more about her job, nothing confidential, and Sansa happily answered them. It was so good to see that he was genuinely interested in the things that were important to her.

Later, he read another chapter of the book aloud, and they talked about it. Sansa knew what was going to happen afterwards and she felt so excited.

“Are you ready for your back massage?” he asked her after a comfortable silence settled in the room.

“Yes.” She stood up before he did and looked at him with a grin on her face.

He laughed softly, pleased with her reaction, and rose to his feet as well.

They made their way to his bedroom. Petyr grabbed a relax body massage oil that contained almond oil and lavender, and a much smaller bottle. He placed them on his nightstand and turned to her. Sansa read the label of the smaller bottle. It was rose musk oil.

“It’s for my scar,” Petyr explained. “I use it every night before going to sleep.”

Sansa looked him in the eye. Did that mean that he was going to take off his shirt in front of her? That he was comfortable enough to show her his scar?

Would he allow her to apply the oil on his scar? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Petyr smiled.

“What do you want to ask me, sweetling?”

She bit her lip.

“It’s okay if you say no,” she told him. 

He smiled again.

“Go on.”

“Okay.” She directed her gaze towards the small bottle before meeting his eyes once more. She wondered how she should say it. Would you let me give you a chest massage? But she didn’t want her question to be ambiguous. She wanted him to know what she was asking for. “Would you let me apply it on your scar?” she asked finally.

“Yes,” he answered, no hesitation in his voice, and Sansa felt a lump on her throat. The fact that he was ready to show her his scar meant so much.

Without any other word, Petyr removed his shirt and hung it behind the door. Sansa kept her eyes on his face. He smiled gently.

“It’s alright,” he said approaching her. “You can watch.”

Her eyes lowered to his scar. It was large and deep, slightly lighter than his color skin. She lifted her gaze and saw a hint of nervousness in his eyes, though he was trying to appear composed.

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“You’ve nothing to fear, Petyr. I can’t see anything ugly about you. I could never see it, no matter how hard I tried.” She moved closer to caress his back like she’d done earlier in the kitchen. “I still think you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

He let out shaky laugh.

“You’re too kind, sweetling.”

She cupped his face with both hands, making eye contact once more.

“No, I’m being honest."

Her words disarmed him.

He swallowed thickly, and nodded. Sansa leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she told him.

He nodded again. He seemed unable to say something, and she didn't push him. He put the pillow and a cushion on the headboard and sat in the bed. Sansa had thought he’d lain on his back and that she would sit next to him, but Petyr gestured for her to sit on his lap, straddling him. 

Sansa took the rose musk oil from the nightstand and approached him. She’d stop at the slightest sign of discomfort she noticed.

The smile didn’t leave Petyr’s face as she sat with her legs either side of his waist. This felt so intimate. He was giving her the control, letting her be on top. She was touched to see how much he trusted her.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, caressing his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Okay." She moved her hand away and opened the bottle, keeping eye contact. She poured a few drops on her right hand.

Petyr made as if he were about to avert his gaze from her when she brought her hand closer to his collarbone, but he resisted the urge. Sansa stopped before touching him.

“We can stop whenever you want, Petyr, it’s alright, I promise,” she told him in a sweet tone.

He blinked and offered her smile, though he still looked a little nervous. Sansa wondered if she should move off of him and sat next to him, if perhaps this way he’d feel more at ease, but Petyr spoke before she could suggest it.

“I know,” he said. “I’m alright. Really. It’s just this is something new. I’d never have anyone apply the oil for me.”

She was touched by his confession, though she’d guessed this was the case.

“It’s alright,” she repeated, and leaned forward to kiss his lips. “Breathe slowly and try to relax. You can close you eyes if you want. And don’t hesitate to ask me to stop if you need me to, please. I promise I wouldn’t be disappointed. All I want is you to feel good.”

Her words brought a big smile to his face now.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you,” he murmured.

Sansa smiled. She couldn't believe her luck either. Petyr was the best partner she could have ever found.

“Go on,” he said, encouraging.

She brought her hand closer to his collarbone and stopped when her fingertips touched his skin. She felt him tense for a moment; then, he relaxed.

An idea entered her mind. What if she sang as she applied the oil? Would it help him stop being so self-conscious? Would it help him relax completely?

She thought about a song she specially liked. She’d only sang it a few times because it was very difficult: it had several trills and high notes. When the song hit them, the highest notes, it gave her chills. It reminded her of a bird’s melody, or the songs the choruses sang in the cathedrals. It made her feel vulnerable and alive all at once, and she realized she couldn’t choose a better song for this moment.

Her hand slid down his collarbone as she began singing the first notes. Petyr sucked in a breath and stared at her, a look of wonder on his face.

Sansa resisted the urge to close her eyes. She kept singing as her hand moved down, following the line of his scar, leaving his skin lightly brighter as her fingertips caressed it. She placed her other hand on his waist without stopping, and saw his chest move slower, the look of wonder still on his face. She was lulling him into a state of calm, her voice was soothing him. There were no worries, no fears, no negative thoughts. Only music and caresses.

Her heart pounded harder in anticipation when she was about to hit the first high notes. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She closed them and shivered as her voice grew higher, and she thought of Petyr dancing with his mother, feeling like a bird, far away from all the bad things. Feeling free and invincible. 

She felt his hands around her body, pulling her closer, and his lips against her hair, near her forehead. She could also feel something damp. She pulled back slightly. Petyr held her gaze, silent tears sliding down his cheeks. The sight made her stop singing abruptly. Her chest tightened. No, she'd caused this reaction. She'd wanted to make him feel good and instead she'd made him cry. She was about to apologize, but Petyr hurried to shake his head.

“No.” He swallowed. “Please, keep singing. I’m alright, I promise. I’m not sad. This… this is the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. Please. Please, keep singing.”

He was touched.

Her lips trembling when she returned his smile, and continued singing. She'd forgotten what was the last part she'd sung so she started from the beginning, and Petyr didn't complain. Her hand continued caressing his scar, moving down and down until it reached the spot above his navel, and she sang, closing her eyes when the emotions felt too strong, and opening them when the melody grew quieter. She didn’t know if Petyr had closed his eyes at some point. Every time she stared at him, he held her gaze. She saw more tears running down his cheeks, but now she knew they weren't sad tears. Petyr looked as if he were witnessing something so breathtaking that he’d no words to describe it.

Neither of them spoke when she finished. She felt him tremble under her and take a deep breath afterwards.

“Sansa… I… This…” He cleared his throat. “This has been magical. Thank you. I don’t know how to express what I’ve felt.”

“Thank you for allowing me to do this for you. You have no idea how much it means for me,” she said. No, she wasn’t going to cry, she told herself.

“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms.

It was then when she realized his heart was beating as fast as hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days ago, I discovered a music group from Norway: Kalandra. Her voice is so so beautiful. Across the Sea and Grizzly Man (cover) are my favorite songs so far. I pictured Sansa singing one of them as she applied the oil on Petyr's chest.


	25. Chapter 25

She could feel the warmth of his body through her clothes. Gradually, his chest began moving slower against hers, and his right hand began tracing patterns on her back. 

“It happened in your grandfather’s house,” he said in a quiet voice, breaking the silence.

Sansa didn’t move. She couldn’t see his face; her cheek was resting on his chest. Petyr didn’t try to move her off his lap either. She guessed it was easier for him to speak this way. He felt ready to tell her how he got his scar.

“Your uncle Edmure was throwing a party. We drank too much, and there are things I don’t remember very well. I… I was in love with Catelyn back then, and he was dating her. I don’t know who started, but I have some memories of Brandon and I yelling at each other. I don’t remember what we say. Probably that’s for the best. Things got pretty heated and Brandon ended up breaking his glass intentionally and leaping on me. You can imagine the rest.”

She shuddered against him. She didn’t want to imagine it. Slowly, she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. The raw emotions that flickered across his face made her chest tighten, and she had to pause to inhale. Petyr didn’t glance away. He held her gaze, his expression unguarded. Sansa felt touched to see he wasn’t putting up an emotional wall between them. He’d shared with her what was probably his most haunting memory, something he struggled to keep buried, and he wasn’t masking his emotions.

She placed a hand on his chest, above his heart. 

“Thank you for telling me, Petyr. I don’t know what you said, but that doesn’t justify my uncle’s reaction. I’m so sorry.” Her words weren’t enough to convey how she felt. 

Petyr licked his lips.

“Are you angry?” he asked tentatively.

She knew what he meant. Wasn’t she angry that they’d fought for her mother?

“No,” she assured him, and it was true. “That belongs in the past.”

He breathed out, relief coloring his features.

“Petyr, I don’t let the past separate us from each other.” He wasn’t that young boy anymore, and whatever he’d felt towards Catelyn, those feelings, no matter how strong they were back then, had disappeared long ago. “I…” _I love you_ , she thought, but the words stuck in her throat. “I don’t want to lose you,” she finally said, because it was true too, and she hoped it was enough for now, until she felt ready to say I love you. She hoped he could read between the lines.

He did, or at least, Sansa thought that when he cupped her face in his hands and leaned forward. His action made the cushion and the pillow slide down.

“Sansa, you won’t lose me,” he said, his tone intense, and his eyes shining with something that made her feel a lump in her throat. “I’m not going anywhere so long as you want me to be by your side.”

“Petyr.” She swallowed thickly. She imagined her life with him. A life filled with laughs, kisses, conversations, books, music… A life filled with love, and understanding, and support. Growing old with your friend, your lover, the person that brought out the best in you every day. The person you could always count on. Your mate.

Her eyes got teary.

“Then prepare yourself to spend the rest of your life with me,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood, but she didn’t manage to keep her voice steady. 

He didn’t laugh. She couldn’t see him clearly but she felt as if he were staring straight into her soul.

He kissed her. It was a passionate kiss, one that made her belly flutter and her heart pound fast like a bird. She could taste his tears in his mouth, the tears that had run down his cheeks earlier, and she knew somehow that telling her about the fight would help him heal, that would make the memories become smaller. His right hand moved to her neck, sending a prickling sensation into her core, and his left hand stroked her hair. Petyr kissed her hard, several curls wrapped around his fingers. His mouth moved against hers unrelentingly, making her gasp and moan. Every grunt he made, every sound, she felt it beneath the palm of her hand, placed on his chest. She had no words to describe what she was feeling. Everything around her was warm, everything _inside_ her was warm. His kisses, the way he was caressing her neck and her hair, the way his body trembled under hers, the sounds he made, the words he’d said earlier. She could feel all of that. She could feel her pulse in her temples as she kissed him back, breathlessly.

“Sansa.” His hands returned to her cheeks, and he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, making her lips curl into a smile. “Sansa, my sweet Sansa.”

She breathed in, the smile still on her face. He looked as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he needed to keep touching her, keep kissing her to make sure she wasn’t going to vanish. And she didn’t want him to stop.

“Thank you,” he said tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “For listening to me. And for reacting like this.”

“I would never hold the past against you,” she told him trailing her fingertips across his stubble.

He exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying her touch against his jawline.

“You have a kind heart, sweetling,” he murmured.

His hands moved to her waist.

“But enough talking about the past,” he added, his tone more cheerful. “I think I owe you a back massage.”

“Yes.” Sansa smiled, the atmosphere around them suddenly lighter. “Though I was wondering… since you’re a generous man…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she brushed her fingers across his neck.

He pressed his hands against her back gently, pulling her a little closer.

“Oh, I’m a generous man, indeed.”

“Then, I hope I don’t come across as capricious.”

He shook his head, feigning seriousness.

“You shouldn’t worry, sweetling. Tell me what you want, and you’ll have it.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile.

“I was wondering if you would mind giving me a chest massage too.” She took his hands and placed them at the hem of her shirt as she said it. She hadn’t planned this, but now, it felt right. 

An expression of wonder crossed his face, but he didn’t move his hands.

“Are you sure?” 

Sansa realized he hadn’t expected to see her bare chest tonight. Surely, he’d expected her to turn away before removing her shirt and lie on her stomach. 

“Yes,” she told him and moved his hands up, dragging her shirt up slightly. “Could you help me take this off, Petyr?”

He blinked. He still didn’t seem to believe this was happening. 

“Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes, of course.” He grabbed the hem of her shirt and began dragging it up slowly, not breaking eye contact, as if wanting to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind.

Sansa lifted her arms so he could pull it over her face, and he did, unhurriedly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. 

Her hair fell down her back as Petyr tossed the shirt aside, the soft curls caressing her skin. He turned to her and their eyes met once more. 

He didn’t speak nor did he reach out to touch her. He was gauging her reaction.

Sansa leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

“You can watch,” she told him, just like he’d told her earlier.

His gaze lowered to her breasts. He remained silent. Suddenly, she felt insecure. 

“Do you still think I’m pretty?” She asked him, remembering when he’d called her the most beautiful woman on earth.

His eyes snapped back at hers. He seemed surprised by her question.

“How can you doubt it?” He reached out and touched her cheek. “I mustn’t be doing my job right if you’re still wondering this.”

She smiled against his hand, blushing.

“I guess you need to be a bit more persuasive,” she told him.

His eyes flickered.

“I’ll gladly be as persuasive as you want. Show me how can I convince you that you’re the most beautiful woman on earth.”

His offer brought another smile to her face. He wanted to make sure he didn’t cross any line.

She moved to grab the relax body massage oil and sat on his lap again. She handed it to him.

“Surprise me,” she said.

Petyr took the bottle, a gentle expression in his eyes. 

“Alright. Tell me if there’s something you don’t like.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

He poured a few drops on the palm of his hand and closed it. Then, he put it back on the nightstand.

He offered her a smile as he rubbed her hands together.

“I don’t want it to feel too greasy,” he told her, his eyes lighting up. “Do you like how it smells?” He didn’t need to bring his hands closer to her nose. A sweet and floral scent filled the air.

“I love it. The smell of lavender reminds me of summer days. There are very few sunny days in Winterfell, and most flowers can’t take the cold, but some years, my family and I would spend summer holidays in the south, visiting medieval castles. In those regions, there are lavender fields that stretch beyond the horizon.”

Petyr nodded.

“I’ve also visited some regions in the south. Have you seen the lavender fields at dawn? It’s such a breathtaking sight, seeing the sky change color and the light breaking into shades of orange, lilac, scarlet.”

“Yes. It’s magical, and so peaceful. It makes you want to lie down and close your eyes, surrounded by lavender flowers, their smell soothing your mind.”

“Is it how you feel now?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Relaxed?”

Sansa smiled at him and took his hands.

“Yes.” She placed them on her abdomen. Her belly fluttered. He hadn’t even started the massage, yet her heart was already beating faster. His hands were so warm after he’d been rubbing them together, and the heat was spreading throughout her body. She dropped her arms to her sides.

Petyr stared at her eyes, and only when she nodded, he lowered his gaze to her abdomen. He remained still for several moments, but Sansa knew that now he wasn’t trying to convince himself that this was real. He looked as if he were trying to etch this moment in his memory forever, to remember the feeling of her bare skin beneath his hands. When he finally slid them across her belly, Sansa shivered. His hands moved up, slowly, and he brushed her breasts with the back of his hands. She closed her eyes, remembering when he’d trailed the flowers in her dress with his fingertips this morning. Remembering how he’d said that flower near her breast was his favorite. It felt as if it had happened long ago.

“Is it summer your favorite season of the year?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. His hands stilled.

Sansa opened her eyes.

“No, my favorite is the season we’re currently in. Autumn,” she answered. “It’s the perfect season for wrapping yourself in a blanket with a hot beverage and reading a book or watching a period drama set in the Georgian or Victorian Era. Or cuddling,” she added with a smile.

His mouth twitched.

“What else?” His knuckles lightly caressed her breasts, sending another shiver down her spine.

“And it’s also the perfect season to eat pumpkin cake and cinnamon rolls,” she added, her voice less steady than before.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Is this your way to suggest plans for the next weekends?” he teased.

She giggled.

“Yes. If you’re not opposed.”

“Hmm. I think I’ll be able to bear watching those period dramas and making those desserts with you. And cuddling.”

She leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips.

“I really appreciate your generosity. I hope I can make it up for you.” 

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much about it.” He flashed her a charming smile. Then, he lowered his gaze back to her breasts and gently cupped them with his hands.

Her heart pounded harder.

Petyr met her eyes again.

“Good?”

“Yes.” It felt more than good, actually.

Tentatively, he began massing her breasts, gentle fingers caressing her skin, as if he wanted to memorize every inch, as if making sure he’d be able to trace the same patterns with his eyes closed, and Sansa held her breath, lost in her pleasure, forcing herself to keep looking at him.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, and Sansa’s lips curled into a smile when she heard the amazement in his voice. 

A sigh escaped her as her lips parted, and the sound made Petyr smile.

“There you are,” he murmured, his voice as soft as his touch. He placed a hand above her heart, still pounding hard. He raised his head to look her in the eye and said: “Breathe, sweetling.”

“I’m breathing,” she laughed, but her voice sounded shaky. She was melting into his touch. She lifted her hands and touched his face. His gaze alone could make her shiver, specially when he was looking at her like this. “I don’t know If I’ll be able to bear it when we make love,” she joked. “This… this feels so good.”

“Oh, and I’m just getting started, sweetling. When we make love, I intend to caress every inch of your body until pleasure becomes all you can feel. My voice, my hands, my mouth. Imagine it.” His fingers brushed over her nipples and he leaned forward.

Sansa let out a gasp when she felt his lips against her throat, pressing several kisses along it. His hands move down to her ribcage. She inhaled deeply, her head tilting back.

“I’ll make sure we can spend a whole day alone, just like today,” he went on, his hands sliding across her waist. “So no one can disturb us. I plan on taking my time to warm you up, to make you ready.” His lips trailed the crook of her neck. “Until you beg for more.”

“Petyr.” A blush spread across her cheeks.

“Yeah, I also intend you to say my name often,” he murmured, his lips curving upwards against her skin.

Sansa giggled. She was certain he would succeed.

His hands moved to her back and he pulled her into an embrace.

Sansa buried her face in his neck and sighed. The feeling of her bare chest against his was awesome. She didn’t want to move.

The remained like this for several minutes, until their heartbeat returned to normal.

“Would you like me to give you a back massage now, sweetling?”

“Yes.”

He smiled and pulled back to look at her. 

“Lie on your stomach.” 

Sansa obeyed and brushed her hair off her neck. Petyr poured a few drops more on his hand and kneeled beside her.

“You know, The Fingers is beautiful at this time of year,” he commented as he caressed her neck with the back of his hand. “The leave trees turn bright red, and there are sunflowers and roses in the gardens, and the air is filled with the smell of apple cakes and cinnamon, and cardamom, and cloves. People make garden ornaments with pumpkins and melons, and some nights they gather at the center of the square to tell ghost stories.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome.”

“Which part? The ghost stories?" he teased. 

"Everything," she giggled. "But I admit I'd like to hear some of these stories." 

She couldn’t see his face, but she was certain he was smiling. He began massaging her shoulders and went on:

“Great for I was wondering that perhaps you’d like to visit it some weekend.”

She propped herself up in one elbow and looked at him, beaming.

“Really?”

“Yes.” His face lit up, and he returned her smile. “I’d also like to show you The Fingers in summer and dance with you and make another treasure trunks, but there are still several months until then. I thought that perhaps you’d like to see it sooner.”

“Yes! That’s a fantastic idea! When can we go?” 

He chuckled. 

“Well, I have no plans for the next weekends, so it’s up to you, sweetling. I’ll let you think of it as I continue your massage.” He gently pushed her down again.

Sansa rested her face on the pillow once more, a smile tugging at her lips. She’d visit his birthplace. She’d see the place where he’d been born and spent his first years. A question entered her mind:

“Do you still own the house where you were born?”

“Yes, my mother’s house. It’s a cozy cottage, actually.” His knuckles lightly traveled down her back. “A vine on the façade, rosebushes in the garden, a stone bench,” he continued. “There are also birdhouses on some trees. Every time I go, I put some seeds inside. Sunflower seeds, millet. In summer, I also put some small water containers in the grass so they can drink. It’s difficult for them to find water at that time of year.”

This was so sweet of him. Sansa melted.

“Do they also use the birdhouses in Autumn?” 

“Oh, yes,” he assured her. He placed his hands on her hips and began massing them in circular motions, applying medium pressure. “Sparrows, goldfinches, cardinals… I’ve even seen some mockingbirds. And I can tell you, they sing beautifully.”

“I’d love to hear them.”

“You will.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her neck.

Another question came to her mind:

“Could we make a garden ornament?”

He chuckled.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, his tone cheerful.

Sansa closed her eyes, the promise of visiting The Fingers, of staying a few days in his cottage, of seeing and hearing the birds, of exploring his birthplace and listening to ghost stories and making a garden ornament filling her mind. Petyr didn’t bring her out of her reverie. He continued massaging her back, alternating long strokes and short ones, light pressure and medium one. He caressed her shoulders, her ribcage, her low back, her hips. His touch, the sweet scent, the images conjuring up in her mind was lulling her into a state of calm. Her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the images faded, and she felt as if she were floating.

“Hey.” Petyr’s voice sounded near her ear, a soft murmur in the distance. She didn’t know when he’d stopped. She felt his body next to her when he lay on his side and she also felt him wrap an arm around her body. “Don’t fall asleep. You haven’t tried the tea yet. Cinnamon, nutmeg, roasted almonds and orange peel. Doesn’t it sound appealing?” 

She smiled, her eyes still closed. His body felt so good against hers, so warm. 

“Later,” she murmured, her voice sleepy. “I don’t want you to leave the bed.” She put a hand on his back, pulling him closer, and Petyr complied, his chest vibrating when a laugh escaped him.

“Alright, sweetling,” he said kissing her head. “Sleep. I won’t go anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Debra Jenkins for suggesting the idea of Petyr and Sansa making love in his cottage in The Fingers :-) 
> 
> I listened to _Only The Winds_ by Ólafur Arnalds on repeat as I wrote this chapter. I struggled to write it, so I hope it turned out well. I think I'm dealing with some kind of writer's block, so I'm going to take a break from writing. I hope you all are doing well <3
> 
> I want to thank you all for reading and for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and suscriptions, and for your suggestions for future chapters. So far the scenes I'd like to write for this fic are:
> 
> -Petyr and Sansa spending a weekend in The Fingers.
> 
> -Petyr meeting the Starks.
> 
> -Petyr and Sansa spending some days in Winterfell.
> 
> -Petyr and Sansa spending their first Christmas Holidays together.
> 
> I'd also like to write another scene set at the University.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter before their trip to The Fingers :-)

**Monday**

“Come in.” Petyr’s voice sounded on the other side of the door. 

Sansa smiled to herself. They’d agreed to meet at his office at 3 o’clock.

It’s been only a few hours since she last saw him; she’d left his house yesterday, after eating dinner with him. Petyr had driven her home. He’d played orchestral pop music in his car stereo. Sansa recognized some songs, though she didn’t know the titles. Some of them were from movie soundtracks, and as they were playing in the background, the movie scenes flashed through her mind, and she experienced the emotions she’d felt when she watched them. It was funny, how music could transport you to the past, how it could bring back some lingering fragments from the past.

Petyr had chosen the longest route without telling her. She’d realized when the car had gone past the street instead of turning right into it. She’d glanced at him, and their eyes had met for an instant. A mischievous grin had spread across his face. He’d been certain she wouldn’t be annoyed. Before eating dinner, he’d asked her to stay the night. _I could drive you to your house in the early morning, so you could fetch your bag and change into clean clothes. Then we could go to the university together,_ he’d suggested. It had been tempting, the idea of spending another night with him; Sansa had almost said yes, but probably it wasn’t a good idea to be seen getting out of his car at the university. He could have parked some streets away from the university, so she covered that distance on foot, but she didn’t like the idea. It made her feel as if they were doing something bad, something forbidden, so after some hesitation, she’d finally turned down his offer. 

Of course, she wasn’t annoyed when he chose the longest route to her house. She’d welcome any extra minutes she could spend with him, specially considering they could barely see each other in the next few days. After talking about it, they’d finally decided to go to the Fingers next weekend: they’d leave next Friday, after they finished their duties at the university and would come back on Sunday night. A whole weekend off. But that meant they needed to get ahead on work. Apart from preparing course materials and grading papers, Petyr had to write an article for publication in an academic journal. Sansa had to get her homework done and she also hoped to finish reading the middle grade novel. It was unlikely that she could write a proper report, but at least she would have a rough draft.

Sansa couldn’t wait to explore The Fingers with him. He’d shown her some pictures with his phone yesterday afternoon: the maple forest; the cliffs; the old tower where the ravens build their nests. Petyr had told her that the legends said there had been a castle originally, but a storm had destroyed it. Strangely, the tower had remained intact. No one knew how. No one knew where the stones of the demolished castle were either. It remained a mystery. The legends said the stones disappeared the same night the storm destroyed the castle. _There are rumors of supernatural presences in this tower,_ Petyr had told her as he tucked his phone in his pocket.

Sansa loved mysteries.

 _“Is it open to the public for tours?”_ she’d asked him.

 _“Every Saturday night. The tour guide was also born in The Fingers and knows many local legends. He’s the man you’re looking for if you want to learn everything about the tower, though most of it is only speculation. I think he’s secretly happy there are not reliable sources about the tower, and he makes the most of it. Every Friday night he dresses in a long black coat and wears a mask that covers his entire face. As he shows the tower to the visitors, he tells the spookiest legends he knows about it. Every room and even the spiral stairs have a story according to him.”_ Petyr had explained, his eyes flickering. He’d guessed what she was going to ask next.

_“Could we visit it?”_

_“A ghost story in the center of the square on Friday night and a spooky tour on Saturday night. Is it what you want, sweetling?”_

_“Yes!”_

He’d chuckled then.

 _“Well I guess I could take advantage of it,” he’d said smirking. “It’s a universal truth that if we’ve listened to a ghost story, our mind will wander to it when we’re in bed at night and will conjure up spooky images. But never fear, if you’re scared when we’re in our bedroom I could always try to comfort you.”_ He’d raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner as he said the last part, and the memories of what had happened on Sunday morning had filled her mind. She’d blushed.

 _“I’m starting to think that you’d planned this from the beginning, Petyr,”_ she’d said biting back a smile, her cheeks warmer than before. _“Making me feel curious about those stories. Making me ask you to visit the tower.”_

 _“Hmm who knows,”_ he’d replied, a smug grin on his face.

It made sense. He knew she was fascinated by ghost stories, but that those stories also scared her. She wouldn’t visit that tower or go to the center of the square alone at night, but going with Petyr would be so much fun, she thought as she turned the knob and stepped into his office.

He was sitting behind his desk, several books, magazines and papers spread across its surface. He offered her a smile as she closed the door behind her but didn’t rise to his feet.

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” She approached to the chair opposite his, on the other side of the desk and sat down. She hung her bag off the back of her chair and placed her folder on his desk. She’d gone to the reprography section during her break to purchase a selection of literary fragments compiled by one of her professors. She had to write a literary analysis of each one of them by Friday. In two hours at most, she’d be also surrounded by books like Petyr (in her case it would be literary criticism books and a dictionary of literary terms).

Petyr hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d stepped into his office, and the smile was still on his face.

“How was your day?” he asked clasping his hands on the desk.

“Busy, but at least I could have lunch with Jeyne.” Her friend hadn’t stopped asking her questions about her Saturday and she’d been unable to suppress an exclamation of triumph when Sansa had told her that she’d also spent the Sunday with him. They hadn’t mentioned his name any single time, just in case someone could hear their conversation. Jeyne had continued calling him Mr X, and although the nickname still sounded ridiculous to Sansa’s ears, she preferred her friend to keep using it. It was an effective way to prevent his name slipped out of her Jane’s mouth by mistake. However, her friend had been unable to bite back a squeal in excitement when Sansa had briefly mentioned what had happened on Sunday morning. It had been something very intimate, so she’d preferred not to share many details. She hadn’t gone into too much detail either when she’d told Jeyne about the massages. Sansa hadn’t told her friend about Petyr’s scar because she wasn’t sure if Petyr would like her friend to know. Jeyne had respected her decision. She also kept some things to herself when she told Sansa about the boys she’d dated.

“I see.” Petyr’s smile broadened, but he didn’t say anything, but Sansa could tell he knew they’d been talking about him at lunch. Jeyne had sent her a message yesterday morning asking how her Saturday with Petyr had gone, but Sansa hadn’t seen it until she came home at night. She’d typed out a short reply: _I’ll tell you at lunch. It was awesome xx._ Jeyne had texted back almost instantly. Her message consisted only of one word (squee!) and a heart eyes emoji. 

“How was your day?” she asked him then.

“Busy too.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve gotten a call in the morning. I’ve been invited to speak at an academic conference about young playwrights at the Azor Theater next month. I know many of the authors that are going to attend and I’ve seen their plays, but I’d like to learn about the others so I’ve asked the organizer to give them my professional email address so they can send me some fragments of their works and the information they consider relevant. Ideally, I’d like to read their whole works, but I don’t have time for that. I wish they’d told me sooner.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate your interest,” Sansa said. “Many people would just look up some information on the internet and wouldn’t bother to read their works, specially considering the tight deadline.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

“Thank you, sweetling. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. This isn’t the most stressful task I’ve been given. Trying to thrive in chaos goes with the job,” he chuckled, earning a grin from her. “My colleagues say I secretly enjoy the chaos.”

“And you do?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “It’s addictive, the rush of adrenaline as you try to keep everything under control. I like challenges.”

“I see. My Prince of Chaos,” she said fondly.

“Speaking of princes… There’s a legend from The Fingers about a Prince. The Prince of the Sea,” Petyr told her. “A supernatural creature that takes the shape of a handsome man every time he gets out of the water. A creature that comes from a world very different from ours, a world where the sun doesn’t exist but there are aquatic plants and animals that emit a different light, fainter. The legend says the Prince fell in love with a human woman during one of his trips to our world.” Petyr fell silent.

“What happened? Don’t tell me it’s a tragic love story.”

“There are different versions,” he said. “You can choose to believe the happy version where he ordered to build a mansion by the cliffs, with emerald stained glass and salt water pool, and he moved in with her, and they had sons and daughters with blue eyes and black hair that looked like dark green when the sun reflected on it.”

“I like this version,” Sansa beamed. “I’ll remember it when we visit the cliffs.”

“This is the short version,” he said, a smirk flashing across his face. “Think of it as a teaser. I actually plan on telling you the long version when we’re staring at the sea.”

That sounded awesome. 

“Ahh I wish we could spend more days in The Fingers. Two days will pass too fast,” she lamented.

“We could spend more days in summer if you want,” Petyr suggested. 

“I’d love too. I hope we can be there the first day of summer. I want to dance with you to celebrate the arrival of the summer.”

His face lit up.

“I cannot think of a better way to celebrate the arrival of summer.” He paused, a mischievous look crossing his features. “Well, maybe I can.”

A blush crept up her cheeks when she remembered yesterday morning. Petyr’s eyes flickered with intensity as he watched her face. She could tell he was also remembering that. Her gaze lowered to his lips. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to risk getting caught. She pictured herself sitting in his lap, her tights brushing against his trousers as she straddled him, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Sweetling, are you alright? You’re flushed.” His voice sounded amused.

“Yes.” She blinked trying to shake off that image and cleared her throat. Petyr was still watching her face, a playful smile upon his lips. She definitely needed to learn how to keep an imperturbable expression, she thought as she stood up and grabbed her bag and her folder.

“I should go,” she said, but instead of turning to the door she approached him.

Petyr glanced at the papers, magazines and books spread across the desk and sighed as if he just remembered all his pending tasks. 

“I’ll stay a couple of hours more,” he said, almost regretfully. 

It was so tempting to ask him to come with her. They could take a walk, just like they did yesterday afternoon. They’d gone to a park and stopped at an ice cream store to buy a two-scoop ice cream tub. It had been Sansa’s idea. She loved eating ice cream every season, no matter how cold the weather was. _You’ll have to pay my next dentist visit,_ Petyr had joked before following her into the store. A few minutes later they’d stepped outside, Petyr’s hand holding the tub with two scoops of ice cream: one green and the other white and pink. Mint and cheesecake.

It was so tempting to forget about her duties and enjoy the rest of the day with him… But she needed to resist the temptation. She thought of the next weekend. Their trip to The Fingers. There were only four days until then. She could do this.

Petyr was looking at her, and she could tell he was also trying to shut up the voice in his head that was telling him to leave his office. 

“Cheer up.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. She breathed in his scent, a scent that had become familiar, a scent she loved. “Think of the weekend.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“If I think of the weekend, I won’t manage to get any work done, sweetling.” He stood up and put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer for another kiss, this time on the lips. When his tongue tried to slip between her lips, Sansa giggled and pulled back.

“Petyr,” she glanced at the door, her laughter still filling the room. “Someone could catch us.”

He dropped his arms to his sides and flashed her a devilish grin, and Sansa had to resist the urge to drop the bag and the folder to the floor and reach for his tie to pull him closer. Gods how could he look so handsome?

“I should go,” she repeated, more to convince herself than to inform him.

“Alright,” he said without moving from his spot. His eyes were still fixed on her, and the devilish grin hadn’t disappeared from his face.

Sansa watched him for an instant before closing the distance between them and giving him a peck on the lips. Petyr chuckled softly against her mouth, as if he were delighted to see she’d initiated another kiss despite her words.

“I’m leaving,” she said, her voice firmer now, and turned away quickly, walking towards the door.

She knew if she stayed, her resolve would fade. 

**A day earlier. Sunday morning**

She opened her eyes when she felt a movement next to her. Petyr rolled onto his back and ran his hand through his hair. Her gaze fell upon his bare torso, and she smiled. She wasn’t wearing her shirt either. They’d fallen asleep after he gave her the massage. She remembered the sensation of his chest against hers when he wrapped his arm around her body, his voice softly asking her not to fall asleep just yet. She’d have to try the tea on another occasion, she thought giggling. She hadn’t slept this well in a long time.

Petyr turned his head to her upon hearing her giggle. He smiled.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice a little raspy. “Have I woken you?”

She shook her head and pulled herself closer to him. Her leg brushed against something hard, and he sucked in a breath.

“Sorry.” She quickly pulled back realizing he had an erection. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” he chuckled wrapping his arm around her waist and shifting closer. He kissed her forehead.

“Are you alright? I mean, is it not uncomfortable?” she asked.

Petyr smiled and nuzzled her neck.

“Don’t worry, it will go down eventually.”

“I don’t think it will go down if we continue cuddling,” she said, a smile in her voice. She moved her hand to caress his back.

“I could take care of it in the bathroom,” he said.

Sansa shook her head, smiling again. Slowly, she pulled back so she could meet his eyes and said:

“It’s not making me feel uncomfortable, in case you’re wondering.” She kissed him on the lips: “In fact, I’d like to take care of it. Here, in the bed. That’s it, if you want.”

Petyr looked surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She offered him another smile. “But I’ve never done this before.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetling. I’ll help you. Just do what you’re comfortable with, alright? Nothing else.”

“Alright.” She sat up in the bed and waited for him to remove his trousers and underwear. Petyr pushed down those pieces of clothing slowly and dropped them to the floor.

This was the first time Sansa saw a man naked, and her gaze fell upon his cock. It was big, and Sansa couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have him inside her. Would it hurt the first time?

Petyr sat up too and cupped her face.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” She smiled at him staring into his eyes. She was a little nervous because this was something new, but she felt excited too. There was no hesitation in her mind, nothing that made her want to stop.

Petyr smiled too, relieved and turned to place the pillow and cushion on the headboard. He rested his back against them and breathed out.

Sansa took his hand.

“Tell me what I should do,” she said.

Petyr squeezed her hand gently before guiding it to his cock, and shuddered as her fingertips trailed along its length. 

“Good?” she asked smiling. His skin there was softer than in any other part of his body.

“Yeah.” He returned her smile. He was breathing faster than before. “Wrap your hand around the base.”

Sansa did gently, for fear of hurting him.

His smile broadened.

“A little harder,” he said, and closed his eyes when she did, a sigh escaping him. “Yeah, like that. Now slid it back and forward.” His head tilted back when she did, but he forced himself to open his eyes and look at her, his lips parted. After a while, when Sansa gained more confidence, he moved his hand away and began caressing her hair. “Beautiful,” he said, his face contorted in pleasure.

Her lips curled into a bright a smile. Petyr continued combing her hair with his fingers and whispering sweet nothings, his breath ragged, his words combined with sighs of pleasure and quiet groans. He ensured the smile didn’t disappear from her face any single moment. She was touched that he wasn’t making this about him but about them both. He could have just closed his eyes and remained still, focused on his own pleasure, but instead he was making her feel special; he was making this moment they were sharing special.

Sansa knew he was close when he was unable to keep talking despite his efforts.

“It’s okay, Petyr. Let it go.” She said leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. Her hand continued stroking his cock as she pressed more kisses, this time to his cheek and his temple, and she didn’t stop kissing him until his hips thrusted forward and he spilled his seed in his belly and Sansa’s hand, letting out a grunt that sent a jolt through her. 

“Ah, Sansa,” he whispered as his body relaxed.

She moved her hand away and pulled back to watch his face. Petyr gave her contented smile before reaching for the tissue box. He grabbed several tissues and wiped his seed off her hand before wiping it off his belly. 

Afterwards, he rested his back against the pillow and cushion again and began tracing lazy patterns on her leg. 

“Are you alright?” she asked him though the answer was evident judging by his expression.

“More than alright.” He moved his hand up to cup her cheek. “How about you? Tell me what you’d like to do now.”

She knew Petyr was asking if she wanted him to pleasure her, but right now she just wanted to lie next to him for a while. 

“Could we cuddle?” she asked. “Unless you’re hungry and want to eat breakfast.”

He smiled fondly.

“Cuddling sounds great,” he replied. “I’ll go to the bathroom to clean myself with soap,” he said glancing at his belly. “But I’ll be right back.” He leaned closer to kiss her before climbing out of bed, and Sansa’s lips curved upwards against his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well :-) Life is currently a bit stressful and that's probably affecting my creativity, so it will probably take me a while to post the next chapter. Hopefully it will be worth the wait. I think their trip to The Fingers will become a novella length since there are many scenes I'd like to write. Thank you so much for your patience and kindness :-)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you all are doing well <3 I'm trying to get back into writing. I love this fandom and I love writing, but sometimes the words don't flow and my confidence is not very good so that doesn't help, so please be patient with me. Thank you so much! :-)

They’d taken a boat in Gultown to go to the smallest peninsula of The Fingers, Petyr’s birthplace. There were no train stations or airports in The Fingers, so it was the only way to get there. Sansa’s hair fluttered in the wind as the boat slid across the sea leaving a trace of foam behind them. The air was salty, and the temperature had dropped several degrees since they’d gotten on the boat. She turned to Petyr. He was wearing a thick black sweatshirt. His hands were in his pockets and he was slightly hunched over. Sansa had noticed that every time drops of sea water splashed over his face, he flinched. The first time she’d noticed, she’d asked him if he was alright. 

“Yeah. It’s just the water is cold.” A cute expression had flashed across his face when he’d said the last word, and Sansa had had to bite back a smile.

At least they didn’t get seasick. Sansa had only boated on a lake when she was a child, but it had been different from this. Now they were traveling at a high speed and she could feel the motor vibration beneath her feet. 

The sun was hiding when the boat slowed down and began approaching the pier. The last bubbles of foam dissapeared. Shades of lilac, pink and grey colored the sky. Petyr and Sansa watched the barn swallows flying around.

“They’re lovely,” Sansa murmured.

“A pair of barn swallows built a nest under my roof shortly after the cottage was built,” Petyr told her. “They’d come back every year since then.”

Sansa had never seen barn swallows in Winterfell. The weather was too cold. She’d only seen cardinals, redpolls and chickadees. 

“I’ve heard the barn swallows bring good luck,” she said with a smile.

Petyr leaned closer and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I’m starting to believe it,” he murmured before kissing her head.

Sansa rested her face on his chest, her smile wider.

“I guess the nest is empty now,” she murmured.

“Yeah. They’ll return by May and stay the whole summer,” Petyr replied. He paused, and Sansa could almost hear his smile. “You’ll see them bringing food to the nest when we come back to celebrate the beginning of Summer. And perhaps you’ll even see the swallow chicks if they peek out from their nest.”

“Aww I’d love that. But I’ll watch it from afar. I don’t want to stress them or the parents.”

Petyr hummed against her hair.

“The iron bench is nearby,” he said. “It’s a good place to read or just to chill out. The iron bench was already there when the barn swallows built their nest and they never seem uneasy when I sit there. We share an area of the garden, but we don’t interfere in other’s business.” He chuckled lightly. “Barn swallows are said to give their trust easily. They build their nest in farmhouses, garages, cottages… but if you disturb them, they’ll never come back.”

“They must be comfortable around you if they don’t feel threatened by your presence,” she said.

Petyr pulled back to see her face and smiled.

“They’ll feel comfortable around you too, sweetling. Next Summer we’ll sit together and watch them.” 

It almost seemed magical how the barn swallows had known that Petyr wouldn’t hurt them.

“For now, you’ll have to resign yourself to watching the sparrows in the birdhouses,” he added. “They stay here the whole year. They also land on the floor and hop along the garden.”

His words sent a rush of excitement through her.

“I shall help you feed them,” she said. 

“Great. There aren’t many sunflower seeds left so we’ll have to go to the store tomorrow, though.”

“No problem.” Sansa didn’t want to act like a tourist. She wanted to spend the weekend living like a local. “You could give me a tour afterwards,” she suggested smiling.

“Why not tonight? Or do you plan to going straight to the cottage after dinner?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, and Sansa could see the amusement in his eyes. “Can’t you wait to be alone with me, hmm?”

“Behave.” She buried her face in his chest to hide her smile and could feel the rumble in his upper torso when Petyr laughed.

She knew she’d blushed so she waited for a few seconds before pulling back. The amusement hadn’t disappeared from his face, but now there was something tender in his eyes too.

“What I meant is that I remember you said tonight there was a ghost story in the center of the square.” 

“Ah, I see, you were worried we wouldn’t arrive on time for the ghost story. It’s at midnight,” he explained, a small smile tugging at his lips.”So we have enough time for a small tour after dinner, if you like.” He leaned closer and gave her a seductive look. “If not, I have other suggestions on what to do until midnight.”

Sansa laughed, the warmth spreading across her cheeks once more.

“I’m sure you have,” she replied, placing her hand on his chest. She knew he wasn’t trying to pressure her to do anything; he was just being playful, and Sansa was certain that he would stop immediately if she showed any signs that he was making her uncomfortable. But Petyr had never made her uncomfortable. She loved it when he was in a playful mood and said things in a way that wasn’t direct, leaving them open to interpretation. And she loved the flicker in his eyes when Petyr realized her mind had wandered exactly to where he wanted and saw her cheeks turning red. A devilish smile crossed his lips then, and Sansa always blushed harder.

They hadn’t brought up the topic of sex since the day Sansa asked him if she could spend the night at his house, but she’d thought about it often, specially during the past few days as she planned this trip. She thought she was ready, and she wanted her first time to be at his cottage. She hadn’t told him yet. Perhaps the small tour he was going to give her tonight would be a good occasion to tell him.

Petyr smiled, oblivious of her thoughts, and took her hand, still on his chest. He brought it to his lips.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sansa.” he murmured.

Something warm filled her, and this time it wasn’t from shyness. She knew this trip meant as much for him as it meant for her. He was letting her in his life. He’d showed her the traditional dance and taught her how to make the most popular dessert: the treasure trunk. Sansa had learned about the small peninsula where he was born from his words and the pictures he’d shown her. Now she was about to see the place herself. She would walk down the streets and could touch the rocks, the grass, the buildings. She wouldn’t need to imagine the smell of the fruit trees, the sheeps or the rose bushes any longer because now she was here. 

She felt lucky. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She could perceive the smell of the sea in his skin.

“I’m glad to be here, Petyr.”

*

His cottage was like a fairy house. It was as if the house had grown on the floor of a small forest, and the forest had welcomed it. The vine climbing on the facade didn’t cover the windows, but stood near the frames. They stood near the fence. Sansa breathed in the sweet scent of the plants.

“This is beautiful.”

His face lit up upon hearing her. He turned his head to her.

“Whenever I come here I hire a gardener to keep it healthy. Arthur prunes the rose bushes, cuts the grass, gets rid of the weeds, and fertilizes and waters the plants.” He paused and offered her his hand. Sansa took it. “I hope you like the inside of the house as much as the garden,” he added.

“I’m sure I will.”

As they walked towards the front door, her eyes darted around the garden. She didn’t want to miss any detail. The birdhouses seemed like mini cottages. They looked so cozy, and Sansa thought they fitted the garden perfectly. When she told Petyr, he looked pleased.

“I built them,” he said as they stopped in front of the door. They left their suitcases on the floor, and Petyr pulled out the keys.

“You built them?” She was pleasantly surprised. “You’re so good at crafting with wood.” She folded her arms across her chest and flashed a grin at him. “What other secret talents do you have?”

Petyr smirked.

“You’ll have to find out yourself, sweetling.”

“Challenge accepted.” She was more than willing to keep learning things about him.

His smirk widened. He put the keys in the lock and opened the door.

“In truth the first birdhouses I built were terrible,” he confessed as they stepped across the threshold. “No bird would have entered them, I can tell you.” He chuckled. “But I didn’t want the wood to go to waste, so I used them to light up the fireplace. So you see, sweetling, I’m not a woodcrafter prodigy,” he said in a joking tone.

“That’s even better. You persevered until you managed to create beautiful birdhouses. You should be proud of yourself.”

A tender expression flickered in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Sansa smiled.

“I just spoke the truth,” she replied. But she knew that sometimes we all forgot things that looked evident and didn’t give ourselves enough credit. Petyr always looked confident at the university. Before she got to know him, she’d believed there were no cracks in his self-esteem, but now she knew that he was a different person when he was at the University: Professor Baelish never hesitated; he seemed to be in his element; in a world where no one could harm him. He was powerful and he knew it.

However, when he was around Sansa, he was Petyr. He wasn’t the dreamer boy he’d been once. The fight with Brandon as well as the other things he’d experienced growing up had shaped him, but that boy still lived inside him, Sansa could see him every time Petyr showed his soft side. Sansa could picture that boy feeding the birds and building the most comfortable houses for them. She could picture him watching the barn swallows in the nest under the roof, happy that they’d chosen his home to create their own. 

*

Petyr showed her every room of the cottage. He saved his bedroom for last. It was probably the most beautiful room of all. The walls were pale blue, and every piece of furniture seemed to have been carefully chosen. 

In the center of the room there was a double bed. Sansa stared at it and felt Petyr approaching her.

“This was a drawing room when my mother lived. I remodeled it to turn it into my bedroom.” He’d shown her the room where he slept as a child some minutes earlier. Now he used it to store books. 

He looked her in the eye, guessing what she was thinking. “I have never brought anyone here. You’re the first person to step into this room, Sansa.”

She knew he’d had sex with other women but couldn’t help but feel relieved to know that hadn’t happened here. She nodded and offered her a smile, and he smiled back.

“Let’s eat dinner. We shall unpack later,” he suggested. “I’ll take you out to dinner at my favorite restaurant. How does it sound?”

Her smile broadened.

“It sounds perfect,” she answered.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well :-) I want to thank you for your comments. They bring me so much joy. I hope you enjoy this chapter! :-)

They chose the longest route to go to the restaurant.

They could have taken a shortcut through an alley, but Petyr suggested walking along the seafront, and Sansa agreed. It was a perfect night to stroll along the sea. They put on their coats and went outside.

“Autumn nights are cold in The Fingers,” Petyr said as he pulled out the keys.

“I bet they aren’t colder than in Winterfell,” Sansa replied in a teasing tone.

He chuckled.

“Very few places are colder than Winterfell, sweetling.” He put the key in the door lock and turned it. “I bet only Antarctica, and that’s the reason why it has no population.” He tucked the keys into his pocket and looked at her.

“It has no population now,” Sansa pointed out, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “But there are theories that Antarctica hasn’t always been covered in ice, that it used to have a tropical climate. Who knows what mysteries are hidden beneath the ice? A while ago I watched a documentary about Antarctica, and they said that scientists had found a mountain shaped like a pyramid.” The documentary was actually part of a documentary series that mixed archaeological study and speculative fiction. It had terrible reviews on the internet. Most users said it was sensationalist and ridiculous. Admittedly, some of the theories were hard to believe, but Sansa thought of it more like a science fiction show than a documentary series, and she enjoyed watching it. It opened her imagination and allowed her to explore all kinds of possibilities about the universe. Her mother gave her a disapproving look every time she caught Sansa watching it, though. Catelyn thought it was a string of nonsense, so Sansa never talked about it with her. She didn’t want to feel judged. The rest of her family simply wasn’t interested in this documentary series, not even Arya, who usually loved mysteries.

Sansa knew Petyr wouldn’t give her a disapproving look or laugh at her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have mentioned it.

Just as she expected, he didn’t mock her or criticize her taste in TV shows. He smiled at her and offered her his hand as he said:

“I don’t want to be a spoilsport but that could be an example of pareidolia.”

“I know.” She took his hand. We humans had the ability to perceive images or patterns where it didn’t exist, like an animal in a cloud or a rock. This was probably the most reasonable explanation: that it was actually a mountain, but it was fascinating to consider the idea that an ancient civilization had built a pyramid in Antarctica. 

They began to walk.

“However, I believe there was an ancient civilization in Antarctica and there’s a city hidden beneath the ice,” he added, his hand holding hers.

Sansa turned to him, surprised.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Sadly it seems unlikely we get to know the truth. We have no way to reach the bottom without causing damage and we have no machines capable of seeing beyond the patch of ice. I guess we’ll have to resign ourselves to speculating for now.”

“Yes. It seems so,” Sansa agreed. “Though perhaps it’s better this way.”

Now it was Petyr’s turn to look surprised.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking that sometimes it’s better not to know. Perhaps I’ve watched too many movies.” She laughed. 

“No, you’re right.” Petyr offered her a smile and went on: “Solving a mystery always has consequences, sometimes small, others big. But something changes inevitably. When you’re investigating something big you need to ask yourself if the implications of a possible discovery. Is it worth the risk?” He paused and shook his head, letting out a small chuckle: “That sounded deeper than I intended. Too many years at the University, I guess. My facet as a professor is showing.”

Sansa rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“I always like hearing you talk,” she said. “So please, don’t hold back. I enjoy talking to you so much.”

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her hand gently. A soft smile crossed his lips.

“Me too.” 

A comfortable silence fell upon them. Petyr broke it after a while:

“The restaurant is more like a cafe. It’s not fancy but the views are beautiful and the food is delicious. They serve the best seafood. They bought it from the local fishermen. But they also served other meals. Their cheese selection is so good, and their desserts. I bet you’ll have a hard time choosing your dessert.” He smirked.

“Well, the decision will be easiest if we pick two different desserts,” Sansa replied, trying to bite back a smile.

“Ah are you planning to steal my dessert, Ms Stark?” He leaned closer and tickled her ribs with his free hand.

Sansa giggled.

“Perhaps.”

“Tsk tsk.” He shook his head. 

“No, actually I was thinking we could share,” she said as they resumed their walk.

“Hmm, what do I have the impression that you’re setting a trap for me?,” he commented with a devious look on his face, and she saw he was making an effort not to laugh.

“Because you’re evil-minded,” she joked. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer. His laughter filled the air. Sansa laughed too. She felt light, without any concern in the world. Only the two of them, with the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks and the stars above their heads. 

“The restaurant is by the rock beach,” Petyr continued after a silence. “The beach is not good for walking on, but there’s a spot I particularly like: there’s a place where there are two big rocks joined together. When it isn’t raining or it isn’t too cold I like sitting there and watching the sea. I’ve been doing it since I was a child and my mother allowed me to walk around alone.”

“Is it there enough room for two on those rocks?” Sansa asked in the hope that he wanted to share that place with her. 

“Yes.” Petyr had smiled, and his tone had sounded pleased, as if he’d been expecting her to ask.

A gentle wind blew through their hair as they walked. Between the salty air and the ocean breeze, their hair would get frizzy by the time they came back to the cottage, she thought, glancing at Petyr with a smile. He looked so cute with his hair curly. She always had to resist the urge to run her hand through his temples. His hair was so soft; it was very pleasant to touch it, and she also enjoyed his reactions when she did: how he closed his eyes and shivered. He especially seemed to like it when she touched the nape of his neck.

“What?” he asked when he caught her looking at him. His lips also curled into a smile. 

The light from the streetlamps was faint so Sansa couldn’t see his eyes in the semidarkness, but she was sure there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

“I was just thinking about the breeze,” she said in an enigmatic tone.

“The breeze?” He raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t expecting that answer.

The sea was as dark as the sky, but they could see the sea foam every time the waves crashed on the rocks. The sound was relaxing.

“Yes. I like it when it blows through your hair and you get the messy hair look.”

His eyes darkened and he replied:

“There are other ways to get a messy hairstyle, sweetling, and you’re welcome to try every one of them.”

Sansa laughed, her cheeks a little flushed as the images his words had conjured up filled her mind.

“Thanks for the offer. I might take it.”

“Oh, I hope you do.” He smirked. 

Her stomach fluttered. Sansa took her eyes off him and wondered if those rocks would be comfortable enough to snuggle up and kiss. That could be a good place to make his hair look messy, she thought trying to bite back a giggle. 

Petyr’s voice interrupted her thoughts:

“That’s the restaurant.”

Sansa followed the direction of his gaze and spotted the restaurant in the distance. It was shaped like a ship. The anchor was beside the door and Sansa saw what looked like a mast to the right. As they approached, the figure at the mast became clear.

“Is it a mermaid?” she asked Petyr.

“Yeah.”

They crossed the threshold. The place was lively; laughter and conversations filled the air, but there were a couple of tables empty. A woman around sixty smiled at them when she saw them entering.

“Petyr! Such a nice surprise.” There was a motherly look on her face. She approached them and gave him a hug.

Petyr didn’t seem surprised by her action. A genuine smile crossed his lips, and he hugged her back.

“I’m glad to see you.” He pulled back. “You look great.” There was fondness in his eyes. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re a sweet-talker,” the woman joked. “Well, I’m doing well. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since your last visit. How about you?”

“I’m well too. There’s someone I’d like to introduce to you.” He turned to Sansa. “This is Sansa. She’s my girlfriend. Sansa, this is Molly, the owner.”

Sansa smiled upon hearing him. He’d never used that word before. Something warm filled her, and she felt special.

The woman’s eyes lit up. She looked at Sansa.

“Oh, this is such a nice surprise, indeed. Nice to meet you dear.” The woman shook her hand. “I’ve been wondering for years how it was possible he hadn’t found someone. He’s a great man, I can tell you, and I’m not biased.”

Petyr laughed cheerfully.

“You know me since I was a child, Molly. Of course you’re biased.” 

“Rude.” The woman chided him, but her grin betrayed her. She looked at them alternatively. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thank you,” Sansa returned her smile.

“Come, you must be hungry.” She led them to an empty table in the corner. “Today’s special is pan-fried flounder and chips.”

Petyr looked at Sansa as they followed the woman, silently asking her if she liked flounder. Sansa liked fish although she didn’t eat it often because it was expensive. She gave him a smile and said:

“It sounds delicious.” She turned her head to Molly. “Petyr has also told me you have an amazing cheese selection.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman stopped near the table and gestured for them to sit. “The Fingers is famous for sheep. Our cheeses had won some prizes. There’s a great variety: some of them are more mature, others softer. If you’re a cheese fan, it’s a safe bet.”

She looked at Petyr, and he smiled.

“Yes, I love cheese.”

“Awesome. I’ll bring you a menu.”

A couple of minutes later she came back with the menu and asked what they’d like to drink. 

“I’d like water, please,” Sansa said.

“Me too.” Petyr added.

As the woman went to fetch a glass water bottle, Petyr and Sansa checked the menu. They agreed to order the pan-fried flounder with chips and the selection cheese. Choosing the homemade desserts was harder. There were five options and they all sounded delicious: Chocolate cake, apple pie, banana bread, tea loaf. Her eyes fell upon the last one: honey lemon curd. She lifted her gaze to look at Petyr.

“I’ve never tried this one,” she said pointing out the last option.

“Honey lemon curd,” he read. An amused smile spread across his face. “Why am I not surprised?”

Sansa giggled.

“Have you tried it?” she asked him.

To her surprise, he nodded.

“Yeah, actually it’s one of my favorite desserts from this place. The honey softens the sour taste, and Molly didn’t use artificial flavors. She uses lemon zest aside from lemon juice to enhance the flavor.”

A smile tugged at her lips upon hearing him mention Molly.

“She seems very fond of you,” she said, no hint of jealousy in her voice. It was good to see another person caring for him. Molly had seen him growing up. She looked at him as if he were family. Sansa had noticed Molly felt protective of him and that she was proud of the man he’d become. Sansa was too.

“She is,” Petyr said. “She’s like an aunt to me. She would often come to my house when my mother lived. She would bring leftover food from the restaurant, and she and my mother would speak for hours. By the time she left, I was sound asleep.” A nostalgic smile tugged at his lips. “Now we usually meet here in the restaurant, but sometimes she comes to the cottage and brings me food as she did when I was a child.” His nostalgic smile was replaced by a look of amusement. “She thinks I’m unable to feed myself properly.”

Sansa laughed softly and leaned over the table. She took his hand.

“I’m glad you can count on her,” she told him. “Finding good people is a blessing.”

“Thank you, sweetling.” He placed his free hand over hers. 

Sansa pulled back when she saw Molly approaching. She smiled at her and the woman smiled back.

“Have you decided what you’d like to have?”

“Yes,” Petyr answered. He chose a tea loaf for dessert and when Molly finished writing down their order he handed her the menu.

“I was wondering whether you’d choose the tea loaf or the chocolate cake, since you like both the tea and the dark chocolate,” Sansa said with a smile. 

“You know me well.” He winked. “The chocolate cake is really good but it’s so filling, and knowing Molly she’ll probably serve us bigger portions.” He touched his belly and added: “I’d like to be able to walk when we finish our dinner.”

Sansa laughed.

It wasn’t long before Molly showed up carrying the fresh fried fish and chips and a tray of cheese. They had to wait for a little while before eating the flounder since it was still too hot, but when they tried it, they both hummed in delight. It was crispy and tasty and the chips paired so well with it. The cheese selection was so delicious that Sansa asked Petyr where she could buy it. 

“The three grocery stores in The Fingers sell all these types of cheese,” he answered. “We shall go in the morning.”

“Great. Thank you.” 

Molly’s eyes shined when she heard their compliments. After she set the desserts on the table, Petyr picked up a piece of the loaf cake with his spoon and offered it to Sansa. She leaned over the table and opened her mouth. Petyr’s eyes flickered when she bit the piece of the loaf cake and savoured it. It was moist and had a fruity flavor. It contained raisins soaked in black tea. Sansa closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, she saw Petyr licking his lips.

“How do you like it?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.

Her stomach fluttered. His pupils had grown bigger, and there was something in his expression that made her want to close the distance and kiss him.

“I love it,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

“Good.” He leaned back and brought the spoon to his mouth without averting his gaze from hers. He made it in a way that looked sinful, and Sansa swallowed, feeling hot suddenly.

She looked down at her dessert, trying to hide her reaction (though she knew she was flushed) and offered him a piece of honey lemon curd.

“Hmm, it’s better than I remembered,” he murmured, and his voice sent a shiver down her spine. 

He knew what he was doing, Sansa realized when his lips twitched involuntarily and she caught a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Oh, but two could play this game, she thought, and began humming and licking her lips every time Petyr offered her a piece of his tea loaf. 

Once they finished eating, Petyr insisted on paying the bill, and they exchanged a few words with Molly and promised to see her again before leaving The Fingers.

It was cold outside. They put on their coats.

“Do you want to see the rest of The Fingers?” he asked her.

“I’d love to.”

He gave her the tour as he’d promised. The Fingers wasn’t a big place, and Petyr seemed to know everyone. They made several stops during their tour to greet people. Sansa tried to remember every name, but she knew it would take her a while to become familiar with all the faces. 

Just like Molly the rest of the population seemed thrilled that Petyr had found someone special. They wished them all the happiness in the world and made Sansa promise that she’d come back soon.

The last stop was the rock beach. Petyr led her to the two big rocks joined together and they sat down. The beach was empty. Petyr wrapped an arm around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulder. They watched the sea in silence. Sansa tried to hold every detail in her memory. The starry sky, the breeze, the warmth of Petyr’s body, the smell of the sea. The feeling of safety, of peace. If there was a perfect occasion to tell her she was ready, that she wanted to make love with him, this might be the one.

“Petyr,” she began.

“Hmm?” His hand started tracing lazy patterns on her waist, just like when they watched the TV together.

Sansa’s heart beat faster. 

“I’d like to try tonight, if we aren’t too tired.” 

A silence followed her words. Slowly, Petyr pulled away to look at her face. Sansa didn’t know if it was the starlight, but there was a flicker in his eyes she’d never seen before. 

“Do you mean… that you are ready to make love with me?” he asked using a gentle tone.

“Yes. That’s it if you want to, of course,” she added quickly.

Petyr beamed.

“I want to, sweetling. There’s something I haven’t told you. A couple of days ago I bought condoms and lube, just in case. I wasn’t going to tell you unless you brought up this topic. I didn’t want my decision to influence you.”

“Oh.” She’d just supposed Petyr would have condoms, but admittedly she hadn’t thought about the lube. She felt embarrassed. She should have thought about it.

“What’s wrong?” He lifted her chin gently so she could meet his eyes.

She told him. Petyr smiled and kissed her forehead. His gesture soothed her.

“The lube will make it feel better,” he said moving his hand to her back. He began drawing small circles on her back as he went on: “I also have some instrumental music CDs. Do you remember I promised you I’d put on the most beautiful music when we made love, sweetling?”

Sansa smiled.

“Yes, I remember.” He’d given her a little demonstration of what he meant in his house, and even though they’d been clothed, it had felt amazing.  
He smiled too.

“I know the first time might be a bit intimidating but I promise you, Sansa, there’s nothing you have to worry about. You’ll set the pace and I won’t do anything you don’t want. If you ask me to stop, I’ll do, I swear it, and I won’t be disappointed or angry. I want you to feel comfortable and I want you to remember your first time fondly.”

“I’m sure I’ll do,” she said, the smile still on her face.

Her body felt lighter than only a few moments before and Petyr seemed to notice because he pulled his hand away and touched her shoulder with his playfully.

“Well, ideally I’d like to hear you scream my name as I make you come, but I’ll do what I can.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows in a comical way, and Sansa bursted into laughter.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you all are doing well :-) I think this is the chapter some of you were expecting. I hope it lives up to your expectations <3 Thank you so much for being so kind and supportive. It means a lot :-) I also want to give Debra Jenkins a shout-out for suggesting the idea that Petyr and Sansa make love for the first time in his cottage in The Fingers :-)

They stayed there, sitting down on the joined rocks. Sansa hugged her knees and rested her head on Petyr’s shoulders, and he began drawing small circles on her left thigh.

Now she was certain that The Fingers was one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Petyr had told her it looked gloomy on cloudy days, which happened often, but Sansa thought it was beautiful all the same. She loved to feel the sunlight against her skin (specially in spring, when it wasn’t too hot), but she also liked cloudy days and the sound of rain, and the earthy scent after a storm. She knew she’d have loved this place even if she’d never met Petyr, but knowing that he was born here made her love it more. 

As she watched the sea foam covering the rocks on the shore before vanishing, she thought that in truth, opinions about a place were never objective. The things we knew beforehand; the things we experienced in there; even the mental associations we created (if a place reminded us of another one, or brought a memory to our mind), our expectations. All of them influenced us.

Speaking of expectations, her mind wandered to tonight. She’d heard many things about the first time: some women said it hurt; others said it was only a bit uncomfortable at the beginning but it got better afterwards. Jeyne had told her that it was over after a few thrusts; but that the foreplay had been really nice. 

It was impossible to know how her experience would be, but Sansa was certain she wouldn’t be disappointed if Petyr didn’t last long. She wanted him to enjoy this; she didn’t want to see him struggling not to come too fast.

She didn’t expect to have an orgasm during the intercourse; perhaps she would orgasm before or after, but this wasn’t her top priority either. It didn’t mean she didn’t expect to enjoy it: his kisses and his caresses have always felt amazing, and she knew it would feel even more amazing with no layer of clothes between them. It would be special and meaningful because it was Petyr. And she knew it would be also special and meaningful to him. In a sense it would be something new to him too; he’d told her that he’d never felt this way before. One of the things that made her more excited about tonight was to see his reaction, the way his expression would change as they worshiped each other. The thought made him smile, and she pressed herself closer to him, lightly rubbing her face against his shoulder.

She could feel his smile when he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"We should get going," he murmured near her hair. "It's almost midnight."

Already? Time had gone by so fast. She wished it slowed down a bit. If only this weekend could last longer than two days and a half… But then it wouldn’t be a weekend, she thought letting out a small giggle at how ridiculous her thought sounded. 

Petyr pulled away from her and tilted his head, half curious, half amused. Sansa just smiled at him and shook her head; she didn’t see the point in telling him what she’d just thought. Now it sounded even more ridiculous than just a few seconds before.

Petyr stood up and helped her to her feet, and they made their way to the square.

*

The square was crowded when they arrived. It seemed that all the population was there. At the bottom, there was a hooded person sitting in a chair, facing the crowd. Sansa couldn’t see whether it was a man or a woman, even though they were holding an oil lamp. The sight was a bit eerie. 

Only the first row was empty, so Petyr and Sansa made their way through the crowd and took a seat. Now Sansa could see the hooded person’s face. It was a woman around 80. Their eyes met for an instant and something flashed across the woman’s face. She seemed curious about her. Sansa didn’t know if she’d already learned that Sansa was Petyr’s girlfriend. Word got around quickly in small places. The woman looked at Petyr for a moment. Then, she closed her eyes and remained still. She seemed to be meditating.

“Her name Anne,” Petyr whispered in her ear. “She loves telling ghost stories and she also knows many local legends about encounters with mythical creatures. She’s been telling stories since before I was born. I confess that when I was a kid, I was afraid of her. Children have always been allowed to hear ghost stories here, and no one wanted to miss a story, no matter how frightening. Of course, we never admitted that we were scared or that we got nightmares after hearing them. You know, we had to pretend we were brave.” He chuckled.

Sansa turned to him.

“Ha. And it was you who said that you’d comfort me when I got scared. What if it’s the other way around?” she teased.

Petyr gave her a chiding look, but she saw he was making an effort not to laugh.

“Behave, Sansa.”

The way he said her name made her feel something warm in her lower belly. She saw a smirk spreading across his face and realized she was licking her lips. She stopped and turned to Anne. At that very moment, the clock tower struck 12.

Slowly, the old woman brought the oil lamp closer to her face and began.

The warmth in Sansa’s lower belly disappeared as soon as Anne’s voice filled the square. The microphone she wore in her left ear amplified her voice. It sounded as if they were inside a cave, and Sansa forgot she was in a square with other people and felt as if she were in a land covered by snow, and the only person apart from her was a boy called like one of her brothers: Bran.

New images were conjured up in her mind as Anne spoke.

The boy, Bran, could see creatures no one else could see, but he could feel their breathing near the nape of his neck when he went into trance, and he could hear the sounds they made. At first it sounded as if they were breathing loudly through their mouth. Then, he heard scratchy sounds, sounds he couldn’t recognize, though part of him couldn’t help but feel relieved. 

Sometimes it was better not to know.

He always froze to the spot. He wanted to run but he couldn’t. Every time, he almost expected to feel something else besides their breathing. He shut his eyes and expected the worst. 

But several minutes passed and nothing happened, and the knot in his chest seemed to grow weaker. Then, he told himself that they couldn’t hurt him because they weren’t _physically_ there. But a voice in his head always asked: _Are you sure? What if they don’t need to be physically here to reach out to you? What if they become stronger every time you have a vision? What if they know where you are?_

_What if they’re coming?_

Sansa’s hand found Petyr’s and squeezed it. Almost instantly he squeezed hers back, but she barely noticed it. She was engrossed in the story. However, she didn’t pull her hand away until Anne finished speaking, and even then, she kept it there for a few seconds as the silence filled the night carrying the last words spoken. Sansa remembered what Petyr had said when they’d talked about the power of stories, how they made people feel connected, how reading aloud or telling a story by using your own words created a magical atmosphere. Everybody in this square had heard the same story, but each one had seen different images in their minds. Each experience had been unique and if anyone retold the story, they’d use different words. That was how variants and versions happened.

Sansa felt lucky to have shared this with him. She turned to him as she heard the sound of people rising to their feet. Petyr smiled and stood up. Sansa also stood up, and they left the square.

“Do you want to walk along the seafront or do you prefer taking the shortest route to the cottage?” he asked as they moved away from the group of people.

Sansa had loved walking along the seafront, but now she just wanted to reach the cottage, and even though Petyr’s expression was unreadable, she knew he also wanted to arrive as soon as possible.

“The shortest one,” she answered.

He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. He took her hand and asked:

“How did you like the ghost story?”

“I loved it. It was actually scary,” Sansa said.

“Aren’t you disappointed with the ending? Some people don’t like open endings. They want to know what really happened instead of having multiple possibilities.”

“Well, I usually prefer closed endings,” Sansa admitted. “But sometimes, an open ending works better. Were the creatures Bran saw real or were they a product of his imagination? Why did he see them? Were the creatures in another dimension or another world? Was there a crack and that was why Bran could see him? What if the crack grew larger and wider? Sometimes the uncertainty is disturbing.”

“It is.” Petyr nodded. “If you don’t know what’s going on… how can you find the solution?”

“Exactly.” Sansa paused and added after a second: “I also find it pretty disturbing that the protagonist’s name was Bran. And the setting looked strangely similar to Winterfell.”

“Yeah, I noticed too. But thankfully your brother has never had visions, hasn’t him?”

“No, as far as I know,” Sansa replied. “It’s just a coincidence, but it makes the whole story more scary. I guess we should omit this part when you get to meet my family and we tell them about this trip. He scares easily,” she added.

Petyr’s eyes darkened. As they walked, he leaned close to her and murmured:

“I guess we should omit what comes next too, sweetling.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. Of course, he meant their first time. 

“Uhm, yes, I think we should omit everything after the restaurant,” she said.

Petyr chuckled.

“I concur.”

The cottage came into view. They had left the garden lights on. From the distance, it looked like fairy dust. Sansa had only stayed inside during some minutes (the time Petyr had spent giving her a tour around the house), but as they approached the fence, she felt as if this was also her home. She couldn’t think of a better place to make love for the first time.

As they walked along the garden, she noticed the floral scent was more intense than when they’d left. Sansa knew some plants smelled stronger at night. The fragrance was intoxicating. She inhaled deeply. Petyr turned his head upon hearing her. She smiled at him.

“It smells so good.”

His face lit up.

“This is one of my favorite scents in the world,” he confessed. “It makes me feel at peace. This garden has always been special. When this cottage became my second home, I didn’t want it to show signs of neglect, I didn’t want it to look abandoned. Every time I come here and see myself everything is as it should be I feel good. This place is part of my past, of my present.” He paused for a moment before adding: I hope it will be part of my future too.”

Sansa smiled.

“Do you know the feeling when you set foot in a place and feel an instant connection? That’s what I feel here, in The Fingers and in this cottage.”

Petyr stopped and looked at her, emotions flashing across his face. Sansa stopped too. She leaned in and pressed her lips to him. His mouth opened slightly, silently inviting her to deepen the kiss. She did. His arms slid around her waist as his mouth mirrored hers. This was their first kiss in the garden, a place close to his heart, and a place she was starting to love already.

When they pulled away, Petyr’s eyes flickered with an intensity that made her gasp. He reached for her face and caressed her cheeks. She closed her eyes.

“Are you alright?” She heard him ask.

She opened her eyes again and gave him a smile.

“Yes,” she said.

Petyr lowered his arms. 

“Do you feel like taking a shower?” he suggested. “We shall change into pajamas. and listen to some music.”

“Instrumental music,” she said smiling. She knew what he was doing. He wanted her to feel comfortable. “Actually, I was going to suggest a shower,” she added. It was truth. She was used to showering at night. It helped her relax.

He grinned.

“Were you? Great minds think alike,” he said.

Sansa laughed.

There were two bathrooms in the house. They almost finished at the same time. When she entered his bedroom, Petyr was choosing the CD. He was wearing black pajamas. He lifted his head when he heard her.

“What do you think?” he asked, showing her a CD cover. It was a picture of a forest and the title was Dreamer.

“It’s perfect,” Sansa said.

He smiled and put the CD in the radio cassette player. A soft music filled the air. Sansa recognized the sound of flutes and violins. Her eyes traveled down his body. Black looked so good on him, she thought. As she looked up, her gaze met his, and she shivered. The time had come. They were finally here, alone.

Sansa didn’t move. Should she remove her clothes? Should she kiss him first? Her heart began beating fast. She didn’t want to be nervous. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes still on his and breathed out.

A gentle expression crossed Petyr’s features.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked approaching her.

“Yes,” she answered quickly and lifted her hands.

Petyr smiled and stood before her. He took her left hand and placed it on his shoulder.

“Just like in the pub,” he whispered.

“Yes.” Sansa smiled too.

Petyr took her right hand. He interlaced her fingers with his slowly.

“Our first dance together will be always one of my dearest memories,” he told her in the same low tone. He slid his right arm around her waist and began to move.

Sansa followed him, her smile brighter than some seconds before.

“It will be one of my dearest memories too, Petyr. It felt like a dream. I…” she paused, fearing it would sound too cheesy, but then she thought that what she’d been about to say was beautiful and that she shouldn’t be embarrassed. She swallowed and decided to say it: “I could have danced with you the whole night.” She knew it was true. She wouldn’t have felt tired or been sleepy because of the adrenaline. 

“Oh.” A boyish grin spread across his face. “If I had known I’d have found a ploy to continue dancing with you in the street.”

Sansa giggled.

“I’d have liked to see you thinking of a scheme.”

“Oh.” His eyes flickered and he leaned forward. “I didn’t know you liked my wicked side, sweetling.”

She giggled again and searched for his mouth. He gladly complied. His arm pulled away from her waist and caressed her neck, and Sansa shivered.

“Petyr.” She gasped when they broke the kiss. “I want to make love with you. Please. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

He cupped her face and looked her in the eye.

“It will be pleasant, I promise you.”

“I know.” She smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. “I know.”

She pulled back and took off her pajamas. She hadn’t put on a bra after showering. This time, she didn’t feel nervous about standing before him like this, with her bare chest and belly. He’d assuaged her worries the night he gave her a massage. The way he’d looked at her; his words; the way he’d caressed her skin…. He’d made her feel beautiful, and Sansa knew he’d done it again tonight.

She placed the two pieces of clothing in a chair and turned to Petyr. He’d been watching her in silence. Sansa came closer and lifted a hand to touch his pajama shirt.

“May I?” she asked him.

“Yes.” 

Sansa pulled it up slowly. Petyr lifted his arms and she slid it over his head. Their eyes met again, and he lowered his arms to his sides. Sansa smiled at him and leaned forward. She placed a kiss on his scar, and perceived a faint scent of the musk rose oil. He must have applied it after showering. She pulled back and offered him another smile. Even though Sansa had also kissed his scar the day he’d given her a massage, he looked touched by her gesture. She held his pajama shirt in her right arm and lifted her left hand to caress his face. Petyr closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. His chest rose and fell, and his breathing caressed the palm of her hand. When he opened his eyes again, Sansa leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each temple. 

“May I take this off, Petyr?” she asked tugging at the waist of his pajama pants.

“Yes.” His voice sounded a little raspy.

She pulled them down slowly. Petyr lifted a leg, and then the other, and she slid the pants off the rest of the way. He was half-hard, and Sansa felt a thrilling sensation when she thought he’d be soon inside her.

She placed his pajamas in the chair, above hers and turned to him. Now they were only wearing their underpants, and it was exciting, but she also felt like some minutes earlier when she’d entered the room. She was nervous. Dancing with him had helped, so she approached him and slid her arms around his shoulders, her heart pounding so hard that she was certain he could feel it.

“Shall we dance?” she asked, trying to use a light tone. She wanted this. She just needed to go slowly.

Petyr smiled and this time he placed his hands on her lower back. They were warm, and his touch soothed her.

“Of course, sweetling.” His tone was gentle.

They moved to the rhythm of the music. At some point, she rested her head on the crook of his neck. The feeling of his chest against her breasts was wonderful. 

She felt his hand on her hair.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.” She smiled against his skin. “You?”

“No.” His hands trailed up her back, making her shiver. He chuckled softly. “Did that tickle?”

“You know the answer, Petyr.” She bit back a laugh.

“Hmm I love how responsive you are,” he murmured.

Sansa lifted her head and stared at his lips. She heard him breathe out, and then he stopped. She looked up to meet his eyes and touched his hair. She combed it with her fingers and saw him part his lips. He looked as if he were struggling to keep his eyes open. Sansa swallowed and kissed him. 

She felt him shudder against her body as he reciprocated the kiss, and she also felt his erection against her thigh. Sansa didn’t know for sure but she was almost certain that he was hard now. His hands slid around her waist and up her ribcage, and now it was Sansa who shivered. She gasped against his mouth. Petyr broke the kiss to ask:

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She kissed his upper lip and the corner of his mouth and took his right hand. She placed it on her breast: “Please, touch me.”

She was surprised to see how needy her voice had sounded. Petyr didn’t speak. He cupped her right breast and massaged it gently, and Sansa felt her knees weak.

“Perhaps we should lie down,” he suggested, laughing softly. He grabbed her by the waist.

Sansa smiled, touching his forehead with hers. Warmth had spread across her body and she knew her cheeks were flushed.

“Okay,” she said. 

He took her hand and led her to the bed, and she saw herself that she’d been correct. He was already aroused. Sansa wondered if it was uncomfortable. He didn’t seem in a hurry to get some relief.

Petyr let go of her hand. Sansa was going to crawl into the bed, but he cupped her face with both hands and gave her a long and slow kiss that made her moan. He pulled back, panting.

“Lie on your back, sweetling.”

Sansa nodded. The mattress was comfortable. She rested her head on the pillow and trailer her fingertips over the sheets. Petyr crawled into the bed and kneeled beside her. Sansa turned her head to him and sought his hand. She took it.

“Are you alright?” Petyr asked as he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Kiss me, please.”

“As my lady wishes.” He leaned over and kissed her as slowly as before, and Sansa released his hand and placed it on his back, pulling him closer. She spread her legs wider unconsciously and threw her head back when he began peppering kisses along her throat and her neck.

“Petyr.” She sighed and opened her eyes. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her underwear. “Please.” She didn’t want more layers of clothing between them.

He was sucking the spot under her jawline but paused and pulled back to look her in the eye. She nodded.

“Please,” she repeated.

He began removing her underwear. Sansa bit her lip when Petyr threw it on the floor and turned back to her. This was the first time she was completely naked before him, and she wondered what he was thinking. His lips were slightly parted and there was a dazed look on his face.

He smiled, perhaps realizing she was gauging his reaction, and leaned over once more.

“So beautiful,” he murmured kissing her chin. Sansa’s lips curved upwards, and he took the opportunity to kiss the corners of her mouth, making her giggle.

“Ah. One of my favorites sounds in the world,” he said in a satisfied tone. 

Sansa giggled harder.

“Let me remove this for you,” she asked tugging at his underwear. “I want to feel you.”

He shuddered upon hearing her and hurried to grant her wish. Sansa beamed and threw the underwear, not caring where it would land. Petyr chuckled.

“Hmm so eager,” he said before claiming her mouth. His kiss swallowed her laughter, and both smiled as their tongues ignited the fire inside their bodies.

Sansa arched her back when he cupped her breasts, and they broke the kiss to catch their breath and stared at each other. She could see the lust in his gaze, and it made the warmth inside her body grow more intense. She was already wet, she could feel it between her legs. Petyr leaned over without breaking the eye contact and placed a kiss on her belly, above her navel. Sansa held her breath.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He placed another kiss, this time an inch above. And then another, and another. He trailed kisses up her ribcage and paused below her breasts. His eyes flickered. 

“May I?”

“Yes.” She realized she was still holding her breath so she exhaled.

Petyr waited for a moment before kissing her left breast. 

“Tell me if this feels good,” he murmured.

He began massaging it with his hand as he brushed his lips across her nipple, and Sansa had to resist the urge to close her eyes when she felt a pleasant tingle in the back of her head. Petyr smiled, knowing she was enjoying it so far. A feeling of tenderness filled her and she reached out to caress his hair, but she lowered her arm when he sucked her nipple. His mouth sent a rush of pleasure to her belly and her core.

“Oh, gods.” she closed her eyes and threw her head back.

He hummed against her skin and when Sansa was able to open her eyes she saw he was smiling.

“Do you want me to do that again?”

She didn’t hesitate:

“Yes, please.” 

His smile broadened. He did that again and then he moved to caress and suck her other breast as well, until the ache Sansa felt between her legs became so uncomfortable than Sansa thought she couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Please.” Her tone sounded breathless. “I need… more.”

Petyr stopped. His hair was disheveled and Sansa realized she was the responsible for it; she’d been running her hands through his temples. 

“You are so handsome.” The words came out of her mouth, her tone fond. It seemed impossible but with each passing day, she felt more and more attracted to him.

Petyr grinned and kissed her belly, and then her inner thigh. He looked up at her and placed a hand on her lower belly. Sansa felt the urge to move his hand lower, where she ached most. 

“May I kiss you between your legs?” he asked.

“Yes,” she hurried to say.

His movements were light and slow at first, giving her time to get used to the sensation. Sansa gripped the sheets and tried to breathe slowly. In and out. In and out. However, eventually her breath quickened, and she gripped the sheets tighter. It felt so good, but she needed more. She tried to rock her hips, but Petyr placed his hands on her waist, soft but firmly. Thankfully, his lips and his tongue moved faster now, and Sansa sighed in relief.

Soon the pleasure was so intense that her legs quivered and Sansa knew she was about to come. She barely registered the moans that escaped her. Her body became lighter and lighter.

“Say my name.”

“Petyr.”

“Again.”

“Petyr. Oh, Petyr.”

Her body tensed and her toes curled.

It felt heavenly. It was much more intense than any orgams she’d ever had. Petyr slowed down his movements, sending the last echoes of pleasure throughout her body until she relaxed again. She opened her eyes. A lazy smile spread across her face.

Petyr was looking at her and he returned her smile. He leaned in to give her a peck on the lips. She cupped his face. She didn’t feel nervous anymore. 

“I’m ready,” she said.

Petyr kissed her once more and pulled back. Sansa saw a fluid in the tip of his cock. She’d seen it too when she’d made him come with her hand the morning she’d woken up in his bed. She wanted to touch him, but she also wanted to feel him inside her already.

He stood up and opened a drawer. She saw him putting on a condom, and she smiled at him when he turned to her reassuringly. Petyr smiled back.

“I’m going to wash my hands. I’ll be right back,” he said.

Sansa nodded. She really didn’t have time to think about anything because he returned shortly after. She spread her legs wide when he crawled into bed. Petyr settled between her legs and leaned over slowly, and Sansa’s chest fluttered when his body covered hers. His skin against hers felt amazing. He propped himself up on his forearms and kissed her sweetly, and Sansa wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him closer, and the movement made his cock rub against her center. A groan escaped him. The sound sent a shiver down her belly. Sansa wanted to rock her hips, but Petyr broke the kiss and moved to sit upright. His breath was heavy. He caressed her inner thigh and swallowed. Sansa knew he was trying to regain control. 

“May I use my fingers to help your body get ready?” he asked later.

“Yes.”

Petyr opened the drawer again and pulled out the lube. He poured some in his hands and spread it along his cock. Then, he poured some more and kneeled beside her.

“I’ll go slowly. I promise,” he said. 

“I know.” She offered him a smile and his lips curved too.

She didn’t avert her eyes from him as he slipped a finger inside her. He paused then and caressed her hair with his free hand. His gesture brought another smile to her face. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly.

“No.”

“I’m glad.” He began rubbing his finger inside her, his movements gentle. It was quite pleasant, but the sensation was fainter than when he’d licked and sucked her nub. After a while, he added another finger. He went slowly this time, though the lube made it slide easily. 

“Still good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She didn’t feel any pain.

Slowly, the sensations she was experiencing grew a bit more intense. Sighs of pleasure escaped her. Petyr’s face lit up, and she smiled to herself. She loved seeing him pleased about what he was doing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

He kept thrusting his fingers in and out. When he finally removed them, his body covered hers once more and he kissed her as if wanting to prevent any nervous thoughts from entering her mind. 

“Do you want to continue?” he asked when he broke the kiss.

She beamed.

“Yes.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and slid a hand between their bodies. Sansa felt the tip of his cock against her center. He looked her in the eye, and she nodded. Her heart quickened. This was happening. 

Something flickered in Petyr’s eyes. 

“I’ll be gentle. I promise. I’ll go slowly and will stop every time you need it. Alright?” His tone was as soft as the music that filled the room.

“Alright.”

Petyr pressed the tip inside her and rested his forearms on the mattress again. His eyes met hers, and Sansa saw the emotion flickering in his gaze, and wondered if he also was trying to hold every detail in his memory. 

“Breathe in, love,” he whispered. 

Sansa did so. Her heart was still beating fast, but there was no hesitation in her mind, no fear. She didn’t know if he was pushing in. She didn’t feel any discomfort so far.

“Now, breathe out.”

She exhaled.

“Very good. Keep breathing just like this. Slowly. Feel the music. Everything is alright.”

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt her inner muscles stretching, and then, a hint of pain. She looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply, trying not to clench around him. She looked back at him when she felt him stop. She was going to tell him that she was alright and to ask him to continue when he spoke: 

“You’re doing so well, sweetling. I’m almost all the way in.” 

“Oh, really?” She thought he was barely inside. This was becoming easier than she’d thought.

“Yes.” He kissed her nose and pulled back, the smile still on his face. “I just need to go slower now.”

She breathed out and caressed his back. She spread her legs wider.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Okay, tell me if it hurts again.” He kissed her on the lips before continuing.

It didn’t. It was a bit uncomfortable, but there was no pain.

“It’s done, love.” He brushed his lips across her jawline and kissed that sensitive spot on her neck that made her sigh. He was rewarded with a long sigh. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’m alright. I’m not in pain.” She ran her hands through his temples and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Her inner muscles tightened when she did so and Petyr shuddered. 

“Sansa.” 

His tone of voice sent a shiver down her spine. Knowing this had been pleasurable for him made her want to do it again. She tightened her muscles, this time consciously, and saw pleasure contorting his face.

“Gods, Sansa.”

She giggled.

“You can move, Petyr.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled and pulled out slightly, his eyes on hers, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. Sansa nodded, and he pushed in. A quiet groan escaped his lips. She loved seeing him this way. His next thrusts were also tentative. Gradually, he set a steady pace. He moved a bit deeper inside her, in and out, but he didn’t thrust harder. Sansa was lost in his gaze. She wanted to memorize every expression that flashed across his face as he moved. He seemed in a state of bliss. 

“Gods, you’re so tight. So warm. Ah.” 

She knew it was getting harder for him to keep his eyes open, but he didn’t seem to want to break eye contact either.

Suddenly, surprise crossed his features. He stopped abruptly and looked at her in awe.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I… I was about to come,” he confessed and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. 

Sansa guessed he was used to lasting longer. She couldn’t help but feel flattered. She didn’t want him to feel embarrassed because there was nothing wrong about that. She cupped his face with her hands.

“It’s alright, Petyr. Don’t hold back any longer. Close your eyes and let it go.” She pressed her lips to his cheek and added: “I couldn’t have imagined a better first time.” 

“Really?” He looked hopeful.

“Really,” she assured him. It was true, and she knew that seeing him come would be the cherry on top. “You’ve made me feel so good,” she went on. “Now I want to make you feel good too.”

“Sansa. I’m the luckiest man alive.” He kissed her with passion.

She gasped when he began moving inside her and Petyr broke the kiss.

“I’m alright,” she hurried to say because she knew that was what he was about to ask. She placed her hands on his bum encouraging him to thrust deeper.

He groaned. 

“Close your eyes, Petyr.” 

He obeyed. Soon he was unable to keep a steady pace; his movements became uncoordinated. The bed creaked as he pushed in and pulled out. He was breathing through his mouth.

A mix of emotions filled her chest as she watched him. She felt their bond become stronger with each thrust. Every time he shuddered, she felt it deep inside, and her emotions only seemed to grow more intense. It was so special. Sansa didn’t know she could feel such a strong connection with anyone. It made her feel vulnerable and also lucky, and she had to inhale deeply to ease the knot in her throat. 

Petyr opened his eyes and kissed her clumsily, and she knew he was trying to show her a part of what he was feeling. She knew he was trying to tell her what this meant to him. Sansa reciprocated his kiss hoping he would know she felt the same way.

“Sansa.” 

“I’m here.” She caressed his back.

He pulled out. His jaw tightened, and she knew he was almost there.

“That’s it Petyr. Come for me.”

He pushed in, and she saw the change in his expression. He parted his lips and a grunt escaped his throat. His body tensed. 

“Oh, Sansa.” 

She hugged him as he shuddered. He was still resting his forearms on the mattress, trying not to crush her. He began pulling back, but she stopped him.

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” She loved the feeling of his body against hers.

He smiled.

“Of course.”

They waited until their breath returned to normal. Then he slid a hand between their bodies and pulled out carefully so the condom didn’t break. Then, he rolled it off and walked towards the bin.

He gave her another smile as he crawled into bed. He pulled the blanket up over their bodies and wrapped an arm around her waist. Sansa grinned when he kissed her forehead. She curled up on his side and nuzzled his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked. His fingertips began tracing patterns along her back. “I hope I didn’t get carried away.”

His touch was very pleasant, and the warmth of both his body and the blanket was making her sleepy.

She didn’t want to move, but she wanted to see his face, so she raised her head. 

She saw a hint of concern in his eyes.

“It was perfect, Petyr. Truly. You were gentle, just like you said you’d be. It didn’t hurt at all.”

Relief flashed across his face. 

“It will feel better each time,” he told her. “That’s it if you want to repeat it, of course,” he added quickly.

Sansa smiled.

“Can we try again in the morning or it’s too soon?” She asked in an innocent tone and caressed his chest. 

He opened his mouth and paused as if trying to decide the best way to answer her question. Sansa bit her lip to suppress a giggle. He had a way with words but she’d just left him speechless.

Finally he seemed to decide that it was pointless to say anything because he leaned forward and kissed her, and Sansa couldn't suppress her giggle any longer.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is purely fluff and smut. I hope it makes you smile :-) I've learned from aidangillensource that the fandom will be celebrating an Aidan Gillen Week from October 25th to October 31th. I don't have a tumblr, but I'd like to write at least one ficlet using one of the prompts they'd given. Are you going to participate? It would be awesome :-)

A faint light streamed through the window when Sansa opened her eyes. She could hear the sound of seagulls from afar. If she stepped out into the garden now, she would watch the sunrise. 

Her gaze fell upon Petyr, who was still sleeping, and her lips curled into a smile. She didn’t want to leave this bed. 

They’d slept facing each other, his arm wrapped around her waist. Sansa usually moved around when she slept, but tonight she hadn’t, or at least, she’d woken up in the same position as when she fell asleep. 

They were still naked, and her right hand was touching his chest. She could barely feel his chest rising and falling. Petyr’s face looked completely relaxed. Sansa wanted to caress his jaw and his cheeks, to brush her fingertips against his light stubble, but she didn’t want to wake him up. 

Last night had felt like a dream. She had known that she had nothing to worry about, that Petyr wouldn’t try to persuade her to do anything she didn’t want to, but her first time had exceeded her expectations. Nothing he’d done last night had made her feel uneasy. She’d been a bit nervous when he’d started entering her, but it was normal. Thankfully he’d gone slowly, letting her adjust. He’d paid attention to the expressions in her face and had stopped when he’d noticed she was in pain. The pain had been faint, and she hadn’t planned to tell him, but perhaps if Petyr hadn’t noticed and had continued pushing in, the pain had gotten worse. Sansa couldn’t know. What she knew was that she’d loved feeling him rocking inside her, and the sounds he’d made, and the way his body had shuddered as he was getting closer to orgasm. Sansa hadn’t reached orgasm then, but she’d had an orgasm before, when he’d used his mouth to pleasure her, and it had felt wonderful. A tingle spread across her body, as she remembered it. She wanted to make love again; she was a bit sore, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

But first, she needed to pee.

She moved away from his embrace, trying not to wake him up. Petyr made a noise of discomfort and knitted his brows, his eyes still closed. His arm tightened around her. Sansa bit back a giggle, and tried again. This time, Petyr opened his eyes.

“Hmm. Sansa?” He blinked a couple of times.

“Good morning.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

He hummed. His hand moved to her waist, making her shiver.

“Good morning,” he said, the sleepy look leaving his face. He moved closer to her. “Have you slept well?”

“Yes,” she said, and giggled when his lips graced at her throat. “How about you?”

“I don’t remember the last time I slept this well,” he answered, placing soft kisses on her collarbone. He paused to look her in the eye. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m good. No pain.” She smiled. 

The light grew brighter. Sansa glanced at the door and let out a resigned sigh. She didn’t want to get up, but she needed to. Slowly, she took the blanket off and began sitting up.

“Hey, don’t leave,” Petyr complained trying to snuggle closer. 

He looked so cute. A feeling of tenderness filled her. She caressed his hair and said:

“I need to pee.”

He sighed.

“Yeah, me too,” he confessed. “But I’m not leaving this bed,” he added stubbornly.

“Ah that’s a pity. I thought you wanted to get ready for round two,” she said hiding a smile.

Petyr moved away from her and hurried to crawl out of bed. 

“I’ll use the other bathroom,” he said running towards the door. He didn’t bother to grab his underwear. 

Sansa’s laughter filled the room.

*

She took the opportunity to wash up and comb her hair. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Petyr was already in the room. He’d perched himself on the edge of the bed. A smile spread across his face when he saw her. He stood up and approached him. Sansa’s eyes traveled around his body. How could he be so handsome? Once again, she felt so lucky their paths had crossed and he’d chosen her. She’d always be grateful for that book about literary motifs, and for that super long movie because this one had allowed them to sit together for hours and had coffee in between. She was so glad that he’d recommended her to attend and that he’d invited her to a coffee during the break. And of course, she was so glad that she’d agreed.

She smiled at him when he stood before her. He reached for her face, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but he brushed her hair off her neck and collarbone and stared into her eyes. Sansa saw a flicker in his. His eyes traveled down her body for a moment before meeting hers again. His voice sounded a little husky when he said:

“You remind me of John William Waterhouse paintings. _A Mermaid. The Soul of The Rose. The Lady of Shalott. Miranda._ “

Sansa knew all those paintings. Waterhouse was one of her favorite painters. His works always transported her to a world where characters from legends, myths and classic books came alive. Casually he had a painting portraying the Collige Virgo Rosas literary motif.

“ _Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May_ ,” she said. This painting depicted two women; one with auburn hair like her, and the other with black hair. They were picking some flowers. 

“Ah, yes.” His eyes shone with amusement. “I’ve grown quite fond of that one in particular, sweetling.”

Sansa giggled.

“Me too.”

Petyr took a lock of her hair between his fingers and stared at it. Sansa held her breath and looked down at his hand. She saw his thumb brushing over her hair and heard him inhale.

“However you’re more beautiful than any of them,” he whispered.

“Petyr…” She didn’t know what to say.

The lock of her hair slipped out of his fingers. Petyr lifted his head and cupped her face with his hands. Her stomach fluttered when his hands slid down her neck at the same time he pressed his lips to hers softly. The tip of his tongue touched her upper lip, but to her surprise he didn’t coax her to open her mouth. He just stood there, but it was enough to send a shiver across her belly.

It was Petyr who broke the kiss, but he kept his hands on her neck. He brushed the spot where her jaw met her neck with his thumbs, and Sansa shivered again.

“You’re my Lady of Shalott. My mermaid. My sweetling,” he said huskily.

Sansa sucked in a breath. There were many things she wanted to say but the words seemed to be swirling around her head chaotically. Petyr moved her hands to her waist and kissed her once more, and Sansa melted in his arms.

Gently he pulled her closer and began stepping backwards without breaking the kiss. Sansa placed her hands on his chest and followed him.

He stopped shortly after and pulled back. Sansa opened her eyes, her heart beating fast in her chest, and saw they were next to the bed. She smiled at him. Petyr was breathing through his mouth. He was already hard, and Sansa felt warmth spreading across her belly when she saw it. 

His eyes were kind when he asked her:

“Are you sure you’re not in pain? We can wait a few days before doing it again.”

Sansa smiled and caressed his chest. She leaned forward and kissed his scar from his navel to his collarbone. When she placed the last kiss she could feel him breathe out. As long as he let her, she would show him how handsome he was, how there was nothing in him that she found ugly. She straightened her back and gave him a peck on the lips. 

“I’m sure Petyr. I want this.” She crawled into bed and lay down on her back.

Petyr licked his lips, and Sansa saw the lust intermingled with tenderness on his face. 

“Alright,” he said. He crawled into bed too. “But tell me if something I do hurts, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled and spread her arms, inviting him to move on top of her.

Petyr returned her smile and settled between her legs. His mouth found hers, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she kissed him back. 

“You can also tell me when I do something you like,” he added, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Sansa ran her hands through his hair, beaming.

“I love the feeling of your body against mine,” she told him. “You’re so warm. I feel safe.” She caressed the nape of his neck and he shut his eyes and let out a soft groan. 

“Do you?” he asked, opening his eyes again.

“Yes. It feels even better than cuddling on your sofa with our clothes on.”

Petyr chuckled upon hearing her.

"That can be easily solved, sweetling. We can cuddle naked.” 

Sansa caressed his lips that were now curled into a smirk.

"You know how we would end up if we cuddle naked, Petyr, and I don't want to ruin the upholstery."

He leaned over her and nibbled her earlobe. 

"I'll buy another sofa, sweetling. And then another one," he whispered. 

Sansa giggled.

"The owner of the store would be delighted," she said.

Petyr pulled back to look at her, a devilish grin on his face.

“What else?” he asked.

“Sorry?”

“What else do you like aside from the feeling of my body against yours?” he asked. His hands caressed her thighs and Sansa spread her legs wider unconsciously.

“I like everything you’ve done so far. Your kisses. Your caresses. Your hands feel so good.” She took his hands and moved them to her belly.

Petyr watched her with a dazed look on his face. Sansa slid his hands up and placed them on her breasts. She closed her eyes; the ache she’d felt last night was returning.

She moaned when he began massaging her breasts. She opened her eyes when she felt his breathing caressing her nipple, and their eyes met for a moment. A mischievous smile spread across his face. Then he sucked her nipple, and she arched her back and closed her eyes again. 

“Gods.”

She felt his mouth trailing a path down her stomach. She bit her lip when he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh.

“What else do you like, Sansa?”

She swallowed and opened her eyes. Petyr’s face was resting on her inner thigh. She knew what he was asking, and Petyr knew the answer to his question but he wanted her to say it aloud.

A blush spread across her cheeks. She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed saying it aloud, although she knew there was no reason to.

“I liked it when you made me come with your mouth.”

He shuddered at his words, and Sansa saw a flicker of triumph in his eyes. 

“I’d be happy to do that again, if you like, sweetling.”

“Please,” she almost whined.

This time her pleasure built faster and soon she was moaning incoherent things. Her orgasm took her by surprise. Her body tensed as the waves spread throughout her belly and her toes curled. She was barely conscious that Petyr had moved on top of her until she felt his breathing against her face.

“Shhh sweetling, don’t bite your lip. I love your pretty mouth so much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Sansa hadn’t realized she was doing so. She let out a breath and opened her eyes.

Petyr was smiling at her.

“Good?” he asked.

Sansa smiled back.

“It was perfect.” 

His smile widened. 

Sansa caressed his face and he leaned into her touch. Now that she’d told him that she’d like it when he’d made her come with his mouth, she felt more confident. She didn’t feel embarrassed when she said:

“Please, make love to me.”

He leaned over and kissed her sweetly before standing up. Sansa watched him as he rolled on the condom and applied some lube. When he crawled into bed again, Sansa propped herself up a little to kiss him. She could feel the wetness between her legs. Petyr gently pushed her down and when her head touched the pillow, he peppered kisses over her collarbone.

“Are you alright?” he asked resting his weight on his elbows and knees.

Sansa could feel his erection near her entrance, and her chest fluttered in anticipation.

“Yes,” she said running her hands through his temples.

Petyr smiled.

“I’ll go slowly,” he said. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Okay.” She placed her hands on his shoulders.

Petyr positioned himself in her entrance and began pushing in.

It was easier than last night, though the sensation was still a bit strange. Petyr stopped once he was inside her and breathed out. It looked like just being inside her was really pleasant for him, and that was very arousing. Her inner muscles clenched before she realized and Petyr groaned and touched her breast with his forehead.

“Gods Sansa, you’re killing me.”

She giggled and pushed him even closer. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Please, move,” she asked him. “I need you.”

He groaned again and lifted his head. His gaze was so intense that she forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“Sansa,” he said her name in a way that made her feel the most special creature in the universe.

Slowly, he pulled out, and the friction was very pleasant. Sansa lifted her hips, and he began pushing in, his eyes on hers, and his lips slightly parted.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she sighed.

After a few thrusts, she asked him to go faster and he complied. He’d been right: it felt better than last night. 

“My sweet Sansa.” He kissed her throat.

Before his next thrust he shifted his hips, changing the angle when he entered her again. He rubbed something inside her that made her see stars. Her body tensed. She gasped and moved her hands to his lower back, holding him in place. Petyr froze.

“Does it hurt?” he asked concerned.

“No.” Her voice sounded like a moan. She breathed in and swallowed. “That felt so good.”

The worried expression disappeared from his face, replaced by a a pleased look.

“I’ve found the right angle, then,” he said.

“Yes. Please, do that again.”

“What? This?” He pulled out and pushed in.

Sansa arched her back as the most awesome sensation she’d ever experienced spread across her body.

“Ah there. There. Please. Don’t stop.”

“Say my name,” he asked lifting her right leg before thrusting inside her again. 

Now he had better access to the spot that made her see stars, and Sansa knew she’d come soon if he kept doing that.

“Petyr.”

“Again.”

“Petyr. Petyr Please.” Her inner muscles clenched around him, making him shudder. Sansa couldn’t think. Her body was reacting in a way that was totally foreign. She reached for his face when the first wave hit her body. “Petyr. Petyr, I’m...”

“Shhh I know. I know. I can feel you,” he cooed. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect. My sweetling. My love.”

My love. That word sent her over the edge. She closed her eyes and got lost in the pleasure. Petyr thrusted a couple of times more before stilling. His grunt sounded like a distant sound in her ears. 

Her legs were still quivering when she opened her eyes. Her body felt so light. Petyr lifted his head and flashed her a grin. His breathing was still a bit fast. Sansa wanted to touch his face, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to do so right now. Instead, she returned his grin.

“Wow,” she said.

Petyr chuckled softly.

“I agree, sweetling.” He kissed her forehead.

“Can we stay in bed for a little while or are you hungry?”

He gave her a playful smile.

“I’m pretty satisfied right now, thank you.”

“Petyr.” She tickled his ribcage, and he laughed.

Once their breathing returned to normal, he pulled out and tossed the condom in the bin. They went to the bathroom before going back to bed. Sansa snuggled up to him and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body, the feeling of his skin. The sun had barely rose. They could still enjoy a few hours in bed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a happy Halloween! :-) This is a short update, but I hope you like it regardless. Thanks for reading! :-) After their trip to The Fingers it will probably take me awhile to brainstorm their trip to Winterfell, but there are still some scenes of The Fingers I'd like to write.

_Jeyne_

_How was your first day in The Fingers? Don’t spare me any spicy details  
xx_

Sansa laughed. Jeyne had sent her the message at 11 p.m, but Sansa had turned her phone off before going out to dinner, so she hadn’t seen it until now.

Petyr was still dressing after round two. Or perhaps he was combing his hair. He’d told her that it took him awhile to get that messy hairstyle. 

Sansa had chosen a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater for today and had made her way to the kitchen. Although it was past ten, the light was dim outside. Sansa smiled. It looked like a perfect day to make an ornament for the garden and also a cake. She giggled. Petyr would roll his eyes when she suggested baking a cake, she was certain. But hey, he knew that she had a sweet tooth since the first time they’d had coffee together, and he hadn’t run away, so now he’d have to deal with the consequences.

She’d turned on the coffee maker before checking her messages. As the hissing sound from the coffee maker and the coffee’s aroma filled the room, Sansa began typing out her response:

_Sansa_

_It was perfect. But I won’t tell you the spicy details._

She added a face with stuck-out tongue emoji and hit send. She giggled again, picturing Jeyne’s face when she read her message.

Behind her, Petyr wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck. Sansa hadn’t heard him come.

“Hmm your laughter is one of my favorite sounds in the world,” he murmured against her neck.

Sansa tilted her head back and beamed. 

“Jeyne was asking me to give her spicy details about yesterday,” she told him.

“Did you tell her the sexy professor made you scream his name?” he asked, his lips brushing across her neck. Sansa could hear the smile in his voice.

She laughed in his arms and moved her hand to give him a soft pat on his right leg.

“Petyr. You’re such a tease,” she said, still laughing. “I told her I wouldn’t give her any spice details and added a yellow face sticking out its tongue.”

She felt his chest vibrating against her back when he chuckled.

“Now who is the tease?” he asked and pressed another kiss, this time to her collarbone. 

She turned around.

A grin broke onto his face when their eyes met. He was wearing a pink long sleeve T-shirt and black jeans. Sansa resisted the urge to touch his hair. She didn’t want to ruin his hair style. They were going to the store to buy bird seeds, and some food. However, there would be time for some cuddles in the evening, when they baked the cake and made the garden ornament.

“You look great with your pink t-shirt,” she told him.

“Do you like it?” He extended his arms and turned around.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a shame I have to wear a coat over it,” he said, a boyish grin on his face. “No one will have the opportunity to admire my t-shirt aside from you.”

Sansa shook her head, laughing. She put her hands on his waist and pulled him closer.

“Come here.” She gave him a peck on the lips and made as if to pull away, but Petyr placed his hands on the small of her back, and his tongue caressed her mouth, coaxing her to part her lips.

Sansa did, smiling against his mouth. Her hands moved up to his ribcage, and her smile widened when he made a soft groan. 

“You’re so cute, did you know that?” she asked when they broke the kiss.

“I try hard everyday, sweetling.”

She shook her head again. She moved away from him and took the loaf of bread they’d brought yesterday in King’s Landing.

“Would you like some toast?” she asked him. 

“Yes, please.”

Once the toaster ejected the slices of bread, Petyr poured the coffee and they sat at the table.

“Uhm that smile scares me,” he said. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing!” She spread peach jam on her toast. “I was just thinking about the cake we are going to bake in the evening.”

Petyr raised an eyebrow but he couldn’t hide his smirk.

“So you are really trying to make me visit a dentist in the near future, aren’t you?”

She bursted into laughter. 

“No, of course not! Besides, we are also going to eat melon or mashed pumpkin.”

He remained silent, although judging by his expression he seemed to know what she meant and was just pretending to be oblivious.

“The garden ornament!” she exclaimed.

He looked at her, feigning confusion.

She threw a napkin at him. He lowered his upper body, chuckling, and the napkin fell onto the floor.

“Petyr! We need to carve a pumpkin or a melon!”

He straightened his back, his smirk so big that Sansa was certain his cheeks hurt.

“You’re impossible!” she exclaimed, her own lips curving up.

“And you absolutely love it, sweetling.” He stood up from his chair and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “Here,” he said, placing it on the table beside her. “You can write down the stuff we need to buy. Don’t forget the ingredients for the cake.”

“What cake would you like to make?” she asked him, opening the notebook.

“You mentioned a carrot cake, right? That sounds good.”

“Okay. We’ll need brown sugar, cream cheese, butter, carrots, eggs, flour, baking powder, and also the spices, but I suppose you already have spice bottles and they last long so...”

“No, I don’t have any spice bottles,” he cut her off.

“What? And how did you make autumn desserts last year?”

He looked at her with tenderness as if her question was adorable. 

“I didn’t,” he answered.

“Well, we have to remedy that.” She looked down at the small notebook and began to write: “We’ll need cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves.”

Petyr grabbed his coffee mug and dragged his chair closed to hers. He sat down and watched her write, a soft smile upon his lips.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, this time longer. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for your kind comments. Sharing this story with you all makes the whole process much more fun :-)

The Fingers smelled of rain and moss in the morning. A breeze caressed their faces when they left the cottage. 

They took a small walk before going to the store. The owner was a man around 70, short and slender. His expression was kind. His gray eyes lit up when he saw Petyr. 

“Petyr! I didn’t expect you to come back this soon.” The man circled the counter and approached them.

Petyr chuckled and gave him an affectionate handshake. 

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming back so soon, but I wanted to show The Fingers to my girlfriend.” He looked at Sansa after saying that.

“Oh.” The man’s gaze fell upon her, and a thrilled expression flashed across his face. “Your girlfriend? Oh, such a nice surprise! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Robin.” He offered her his hand and she took it.

“I’m Sansa,” she introduced herself. 

The man looked at Petyr.

“How long have you been keeping it under wraps, uh?” 

Petyr placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and shook his head, laughing.

“Ah no, no, I know what you’re trying to do, but you won’t worm anything out of me. You know I am a private man.”

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, but Sansa saw his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Well I guess you haven’t come here just to pick my curiosity and then leave it unsated,” he added, the flicker in his eyes matching his grin.

Petyr chuckled again.

“No, we need to buy some groceries.” He handed Robin the list.

The man took the piece of paper and read it. 

“I have everything you need. But, brown sugar?” He lifted his eyes to look at Petyr.

“Yes, we’re going to make a cake,” Petyr answered.

“Oh, that’s new.” The man bursted into laughter. “Who are you and what have you done to Petyr?” 

Petyr raised his eyebrows amused, but he didn’t reply. The man looked at the piece of paper again and walked away to go fetch the products on the list. 

Petyr turned to Sansa and offered her a smile. She returned it though Robin’s words still echoed in her head. What if she was imposing without realizing? What if Petyr didn’t feel like baking a carrot cake or making an ornament for the garden or visiting the Tower? What if he had just agreed because he wanted to please her?

When the man returned, they paid and took the bags. 

“How long will you stay?” Robin asked them, oblivious of Sansa’s thought.

“We’ll leave tomorrow. This is just a weekend trip,” Petyr answered.

“Then I hope I can see both of you soon.” The man shook their hands, and they left.

They took the seafront route.

“You were quiet in the store,” Petyr said after a while. “Is it everything alright?”

“Yes.” She looked at him. “It’s just… Robin’s words made me think. I feel like I have been imposing since we came here.”

He smiled.

“If this is for the carrot cake, don’t worry. If I didn’t like baking desserts, I wouldn’t have suggested making the treasure trunk in my house, do you remember? As for the other activities, I love doing things with you.”

His words eased the weight in her chest.

“Did you really like listening to the ghost story?” she asked.

He stopped then. His fingers caressed her wrist. Sansa stood beside him. 

“Of course I liked it,” he said. “I told you I used to listen to them when I was a kid. Besides, I got to comfort you.” His smile widened. "I remember you squeezed my hand in the middle of the ghost story."

Sansa laughed. Yes, she'd done so.

Something flickered in Petyr's eyes when he added: “Now seriously. Yesterday was perfect. I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.”

The memories of last night entered her mind, and she could almost feel his lips tickling her skin all over her body again. The heavy feeling in her chest was replaced by warmth. 

“I wouldn’t change anything either,” she said smiling.

“The ghost story, the ornament for the garden, the visit to the Tower…” he continued. “I wouldn’t have suggested those activities if I wouldn’t want to do them, Sansa. Doing these things with you adds a new meaning to them. I feel like I’m rediscovering The Fingers.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. When he pulled back there was a wicked grin on his face. “And I cannot wait to visit the Tower tonight. I’m hoping I’ll be able to comfort you more _thoroughly_.”

Even though he’d already made love to her twice, or precisely because of that, Sansa couldn’t help but blush. Petyr’s eyes traveled across her cheeks, and his grin widened. 

They went back to the cottage to put away the groceries. They’d finally chosen to buy a small pale green melon. The skin wasn’t as tough as other varieties of melon’s so it would be easy to carve. 

“Any melon carving ideas?” Sansa asked him as she placed the spice bottles on the cupboard.

“We could carve out two different designs,” Petyr suggested.

“Oh, that’s a great idea. I could draw a direwolf.”

Direwolves were legendary creatures from the North. They appeared in many fairy tales.

“When I was a kid, my parents bought me a huge book about fairy tales,” Sansa told him. “The illustrations were impressive. Every time I turned the pages I felt as if the images could come to life. There was a tale about a girl who got lost in the forest, and a monster that fed on fear. The monster was depicted as a shadow lurking behind the brushwood. The girl could feel it and at some point she started to run, but the monster was faster than her. She looked back as she ran, so she didn’t see a big root above the ground. She stumbled and fell. The monster showed up, triumphant, almost tasting her terror, and leaned over her, but then, a direwolf jumped on it, sending the monster back to the land of nightmares.”

There was a brief silent in which Petyr seemed to mull over her words. 

“I hadn’t heard of that tale before,” he finally said. “Though I know the direwolves are probably the most important legendary creatures from the North. They symbolize loyalty and bravery.”

“Yes. Every person from the North is said to have a direwolf protecting them, even though we cannot see them.”

Petyr smiled upon hearing her and reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. Sansa leaned into his touch.

“If that legend is true, then I’m glad there’s a powerful creature protecting you,” he said.

Sansa smiled.

“The direwolves also protect the people we love, so if I have a direwolf, they are also doing their best to keep you safe,” she told him.

A hint of tenderness colored his features. 

“Then I suppose we’ve made it easy for them this weekend, since we’re spending all the time together,” he said.

Sansa laughed.

After putting away the groceries, they went for a walk. They ran into several familiar faces and had a small chat with some of them. 

They also watched the sea from the cliff, and the seagulls flying around, and Petyr told her more about the legend of The Prince of the Sea and the woman he fell in love with.

Afterwards they went back to the restaurant to have lunch. Molly looked delighted to see them again, and she gave them a tupperware of stew before they left. 

“It will taste better tomorrow,” she told them and gave each one a hug.

“Thank you,” Petyr said. “We’ll come back tomorrow to bid you farewell.”

“Alright. Enjoy the rest of your day, lovelies.”

The first thing they did once they went back to the cottage was to put the seeds in the birdhouses. As they opened the birdseed bag, they spotted some birds in the nearest trees, every pair of small eyes fixed on them. 

“I hope I can see some of them entering the houses,” Sansa said.

“Oh, I’m sure you will. I bet they’re waiting for us to turn around to do so.”

Petyr was right. They had barely reached the front door when several sparrows flew to the birdhouses. 

“Oh, look!” Sansa exclaimed and hurried to pull out her phone to take some photos. 

“What had I told you?” Petyr chuckled. 

In the living room, Petyr added another log to the fire and they sat at the table with all the things they needed to carve the melon. Paper, scissors, pencils, a serving spoon and knives.

Petyr scooped out the insides of the melon as Sansa drew a direwolf in a piece of paper. He glanced at her when she heard her laughter. 

Sansa was looking at her drawing, biting her upper lip.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“This looks like a mutant horse.” She turned the piece of paper so Petyr could see her drawing.

He chuckled.

“It looks spooky,” he admitted. “But that’s perfect for this time of the year.”

“Thank you. You’re always very tactful.”

He tilted his head and studied her drawing with more attention.

“If someone asks, we can always say it’s the horse from sleepy hollow,” he added, and hurried to move away when Sansa made as if to tickle him.

“I take back my words. You’re not always tactful." She grabbed the scissors to cut her design out of the paper. 

Petyr had already cut the melon flesh in small pieces and put them in a glass container.

“I’ll put it in the fridge,” he said standing from his chair.

“Okay.”

When he went back, Sansa was still tracing her design on the melon skin.

“Let’s see how my design turns out,” he said grabbing a pencil with a smirk on his face. “I’m going to draw a bird.”

“Well, that’s your intention, but maybe your bird turns into a T-Rex with wings,” she joked.

He tried to give her a chiding look, but failed.

“Ha, you found it funny!”

He began to draw. Sansa tried to sneak a peek at the piece of paper, but he hid it with his arm.

“Tsk tsk, I won’t show you until it’s finished,” he said, a devilish expression on his face.

Sansa pouted. He let out a chuckle. 

When he finished, he set the pencil on the table slowly and looked at her. He was still hiding his drawing from her.

“Ready to see my work of art?” he asked and pressed his lips together in an attempt to keep a solemn face.

“Yes. Let’s see your T-Rex,” she teased. 

“Behave, Sansa.” A smirk crossed his lips. Slowly, he lifted his drawing. “Ta ta chan!” He showed it to her.

It was a bird with wings spread, perched on a tree branch. It was delicate, and Sansa thought it would be a beautiful watercolor painting.

“Aww Petyr, I loved it!”

His face lit up at her praise, and he looked so proud of himself. Sansa melted at the sight.

“Now it’s your turn to trace your design on the melon,” she said.

She’d read that carving pumpkins only lasted two or three days. She didn’t know how long carving melon lasted but since tomorrow they’d leave, they’d throw it away by then.

Once Petyr finished, he cut out both designs and put the top of the melon back in place. 

“How does it look?” he asked, spinning the melon so Sansa could see both designs.

“Amazing, especially considering it’s the first ornament we make together.”

Petyr smiled.

“We make a good team,” he said, and then he stood from his chair. “Come. Let’s put this in the garden.”

They decided to place it near the entrance.

“Wait,” Sansa said before he placed it there. “I’d like to take you a photo holding it.”

Petyr held the melon with both hands and smiled at her phone.

“Perfect,” Sansa said after tucking her phone back into her pocket.

“Time for the carrot cake!” Petyr exclaimed once they were inside the house again.

Sansa knew it was his way to reassure her that he really wanted to make this cake with her. She rubbed his back as they made their way to the kitchen.

This felt a little different from when they made the treasure trunk. Now they knew each other better though of course some things didn’t change. At some point Sansa leaned against the counter. She’d just finished grating the carrots (though she’d saved one to eat raw) and now she was watching her. Petyr was adding the dry ingredient mixture into the egg mixture; apparently he hadn’t noticed that she was staring. However, he heard the crushing sound when Sansa took a bite of the carrot. He stopped and turned to her. His eyes fell upon the carrot and then darted down to her lips, and Sansa saw the change in his expression. The hunger lurking beneath his gaze.

Slowly, he set aside the bowl and approached her, and Sansa leaned back and swallowed the bite of carrot, heat spreading across her body.

Petyr stood in front of her, his expression so sinful that Sansa forgot about the cake. She got lost in his gaze, and she could almost hear his voice even though he hadn’t spoken yet. His hands caressed her inner thighs, and she spread her legs wider.

“Such a wicked girl,” he murmured as he leaned over her. 

Sansa sucked in a breath when he lightly nibbled her jawline, from her chin to the spot near ear earlobe, his lips and teeth giving her goosebumps.

“Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” He breathed out in her neck.

Sansa grabbed the edge of the counter in anticipation, but Petyr didn’t kiss her neck. He chuckled and pulled back. With a smug smile, he took her wrist and brought her hand, that was still holding the carrot, to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he took a bite of the carrot and chewed. 

“Delicious,” he said. Then, he grabbed the tray of grated carrots and stirred them into the mix, without another word.

Sansa watched him transfer the mix to a cake pan and put it in the oven. His touch had left her starving, and she could tell he knew. Who was the wicked now?

Petyr straightened and turned to her. A smile broke onto his face when he watched her expression.

“Well, where were we?

Sansa crossed her arms over her chest. He laughed.

“I couldn’t leave the mix outside, sweetling. It would have gone to waste, since I plan to take my time with you.” His eyes darkened when he said the last part, and Sansa shivered.

He came to her, but Sansa didn’t wait for him to lean over her. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His chest and abdomen pressed to hers when she wrapped her legs around him. His mouth devoured her lips and her tongue, his hands slid under her sweater, and Sansa wanted more and more.

“Please,” she gasped.

“What do you want?” He kissed her throat and placed his hands on her waist. 

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of his lips against her skin. She’d like to experiment a little.

“I… I’d like to try a different position,” she said. 

Petyr pulled back so he could see her face.  
“Go on. Tell me what you want.”

“I’d like to be on top,” she said, blushing. “If that’s okay with you.”

Petyr gave her a peck on the lips and took her hands.

“Come with me.”

He led her to the living room. He kissed her wrists before letting go of her hands and moved to place a blanket over the sofa. Then he closed the curtains and dimmed the lights. 

He typed something in his phone, and soft music filled the room. Sansa offered him a smile when he looked at her.

“Good?” 

“Yes,” she said.

They undressed, between kisses, sighs and soft laughter. The crackling fire in the background was a comforting sound. They could perceive the sweet scent of the carrot cake from the kitchen. 

Sansa straddled him when he sat down on the sofa. He’d already put on the condom.

She caressed his hair.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the morning,” she confessed to him.

He gave her a teasing look.

“My hair is one of your favorite parts of my body, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t choose,” she said, which earned a grin from him.

She whimpered when he pulled her closer, her center brushing against his cock. She was wet, and the friction felt awesome. Petyr pressed a kiss to her jaw and her neck. 

“Whenever you are ready, love” he murmured.

She reached down and heard him inhale when she took his cock gently. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and he nodded.

They both moaned when she sank into his cock. Her body welcomed his. It had been only a few hours since they’d made love, but Sansa had already missed this.

“Are you alright?” she asked, touching his face.

“Yes.” He leaned forward to kiss her lips. 

Sansa caressed his shoulders as she kissed him back. She’d missed the feel of his bare skin. Her fingertips brushed across his collarbone, and she felt his lips curve up against her mouth.

“May I move?” she asked when they broke the kiss.

“Yes, please.”

Sansa smiled. She began rocking her hips against his experimentally, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Look at me.” Petyr asked, cupping her face.

Sansa obeyed. 

“Don’t think,” he whispered then. “Your body knows what it’s doing. Just relax and let the sensations spread across your body.”

“Okay.”

She continued moving until she found a pace that felt good. She didn’t avert her eyes from his. Petyr was watching her with utter adoration, his lips slightly parted. Every time she lowered onto his cock, he tightened his hold on her waist. He hadn’t thrusted yet; he was letting her get used to this position, but Sansa could tell he wanted to move too.

His cock rubbed a spot within her that felt heavenly, and her eyes shut. She bent down, exhaling.

“Oh, Petyr.”

His hips jerked in response, and his hands moved to her back.

“Yes,” she encouraged him. “Please, move.”

He breathed in and began mirroring her movements, tentatively. He was gauging her reaction. She moved faster and felt him shudder under her. His hands drew her closer, as if he craved more friction. 

“Good?” she asked, panting.

“Yes.” He thrusted up, and his eyes narrowed. “Yes. Ah. You feel… Ah… You feel so good.”

The noises he was making sent jolts down her belly. Sansa threaded her fingers through his hair. She was almost there. Almost there.

“More Petyr, please.”

She threw her head back when the pleasure spread throughout her body, from her toes to her the nape of her neck and her temples. It was powerful, like ocean currents. Under her, Petyr slowed his movements, helping her chase the last wave of pleasure, until Sansa relaxed. 

“How was that?” he asked when she finally opened her eyes.

Sansa traced her fingertips over his face and returned his smile.

“Wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

Sansa realized then that he was still hard inside her.

“You haven’t finished.”

“I’m close,” he said.

Sansa leaned in and gave him a long kiss. He moaned into her mouth, and his hips gave a short jerking. She broke the kiss, smiling.

“Then come for me, Petyr.”

He didn’t wait for her to say it twice. He began rocking under her, his eyes half-closed. Sounds of pleasure escaped him when he exhaled. Sansa moved her hands to the back of his head and began rubbing the spot behind his ears.

“Ah, yes. Please…” He swallowed thickly. “Please keep doing that. I’m... I’m almost there. Ah.”

His movements became uncoordinated. He grunted and leaned forward. He captured her lips as his hips thrusted one last time. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders when his body tensed.

“Sansa.” His voice sounded raspy.

She waited until his body relaxed before lowering her arms. Petyr leaned back on the sofa, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. He lifted a hand to rub her back.

“How did you like this position?” he asked.

Sansa beamed.

“I loved it.”

They waited a few seconds before rising to their feet and putting on their clothes. Sansa was combing her hair with her hands when she heard Petyr’s laughter.

She turned around and saw him looking out the window.

“What’s going on?” She approached him.

“Look. I think our ornament will be even more short-lived than we thought.” Petyr pointed at the carving melon.

Sansa looked at it and bit back a giggle.

Several birds were trying to lick the inside of the melon.

“It seems they approve,” she said.

Petyr wrapped an arm around her waist and joked:

“Yes. Our first fans. I think we’ll have their heartfelt support if we decide to carve more fruits, sweetling.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for fluff? :-)

The scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and clove filled the cottage. Petyr had just taken the carrot cake out of the oven, and now it was cooling on a rack. 

Outside, the sky was dark. It looked like it was about to rain.

“Well.” Petyr checked the time. “We’ll have to wait a couple of hours before frosting it. He looked at Sansa and smiled as if an idea had just entered his mind. “I have a collection of short stories from different eras and of different genres. Mystery, adventure, humor, love. We shall read a few ones. Well,” he corrected himself, his smile wider: “I shall read them aloud with you snuggled up to me on the sofa, as a way to remember the first time I read to you.”

“That sounds perfect.” She loved hearing stories and she loved his voice. Besides, she’d get to see him wearing his reading glasses again. He looked so cute. 

“Then it’s settled.” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You have a strange smile on your face. What are you thinking of?”

“Nothing,” she said and pressed her lips together to hide her smile.

“You were picturing me with glasses,” he said later, once they were sitting on the sofa. He’d just pulled his reading glasses out of the eyeglass case and was about to put them on when he noticed the look on her face.

“No,” she said in an innocent tone, trying not to laugh at the way his jaw had dropped and hoping he wouldn’t place a hand over his heart because then she couldn’t keep her facade any longer. “Why do you think that?”

“Wicked girl.” He leaned forward and tickled her. “Do you think I look sexy with glasses? Hmm?”

Sansa laughed, pressing her arms to her sides in an attempt to stop him from tickling her ribcage. 

“Yes. And you also look adorable.”

“Adorable?” He stopped tickling her and feigned a look of dismay.

“Yes.” She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Adorable and sexy is a win-win combination. Didn’t you know that?”

Her words brought a smile to his face.

“Now I know, sweetling.” He put on his glasses and closed the eyeglass case with a metallic sound. “Shall we begin?”

Since they were going to hear spooky legends tonight when they visited the tower, they agreed to read fun and lighthearted stories now. Sansa snuggled up to him as they flipped through the index of story titles and their plot summaries.

“This one looks like a fluffy regency story,” Sansa said pointing at one of the summaries.

“Stella is ready to come out into society. She hopes to find a Duke or at least a Marquess. She wasn’t going to settle for anything less, she’s resolved. However her resolver falters when she lays her eyes on a rich merchant with no titles but a terrible reputation,” Petyr read. He looked at Sansa, and his eyebrows rose and fell twice. “Hmm the perfect story to fulfill your love for bad guys.”

Sansa laughed.

“What can I say? A girl has her fantasies.”

His eyes darkened and he looked at her in a way that made her shiver. It was as if he could read all her sinful thoughts as if he could understand the allure of a villain or antihero, and was totally capable of replicating those traits for her. Furthermore, he was looking at her as if he were willing to give her a demonstration.

He leaned closer and whispered:

“I can be a bad guy for you, Sansa. You just have to ask.”

She shivered again. 

“I’ll… I’ll keep it in mind.” Her tone sounded a little high-pitched. She cleared her throat and looked back at the book. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course.” He smirked wickedly.

His glasses slid down his nose slightly when he returned his attention to the book, and Sansa smiled to herself. He was adorable, and he couldn’t do anything to change that. 

He read three stories aloud. Aside from the fluffy regency story, he read a story about a creature everyone was terrified of; the creature found a red velvet suit and a hat with a white bobble and as soon as they put it on, thousands of elves with sacks of gifts showed up and told the creature that they needed to carry the gifts to children. The third story was about a popular actor that moved to a small town where there happened to be several fans of him.

“Aww cozy stories set in small towns always give me warm and fuzzy feelings.” Sansa sighed and nuzzled the crook of his neck before pulling away.

“Yeah.” He took his reading glasses off and set the book on the table. “Christmas is around the corner. It’s just a matter of time before the TV channels and platforms flood us with Christmas movies and I bet many of them will be set in small towns. A rich businessman going back to his hometown and meeting his childhood love again…”

“Or a rich businessman that hasn’t celebrated Christmas since he was a child and has to spend a few weeks in a small town for whatever reason and meets a woman who loves Christmas, and they both fall in love, and she helps him see all the things he’d been missing out...” Sansa added.

“Yeah.” Petyr laughed. 

“I love those kinds of stories,” Sansa told him. “No matter how many times those tropes have been explored, these stories always make me feel good.”

Petyr smiled then.

“We all need feel-good stories sometimes,” he said. “We shall watch a few ones together as we enter the holiday season. We might make gingerbread cookies and hot cocoa.”

“Yay! You’ve just suggested baking sweet treats. I’ve brought you to the dark side!” she exclaimed in triumph.

“Yes, you’re absolutely a bad influence, sweetling.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “And speaking of feelgood stuff…” He rose to his feet and pulled out his phone. “There’s a song I discovered a few days ago by chance.” He typed out the title and hit the play button before placing his phone on the table. “Would you like to dance with me, my lady?”

The man with a bad reputation had called the female protagonist “my lady” in the first story. Petyr’s voice had grown huskier every time he’d said those words. _My lady_. He made it sound erotic. Now however, he’d spoken the words in a playful tone. Sansa bowed.

“It will be my pleasure, my lord,” she said, taking his hand.”

It was a catchy song about spreading love. The electric bass and the drums in the background gave the melody a special touch.

Sansa bounced on the spot as the song started playing and Petyr nodded his head to the rhythm of the music and swung his arms. This reminded her of their zumba session in his house. She’d loved teaching him those zumba steps. Seeing him mirroring her movements had been so much fun. 

_Dale cariño pa que se encienda su luz._

She rolled downwards through her chest and hips and moved closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder as she shook her hips.

_Ven pa darte un abrazo y un beso_

_que lo que te falta es eso_

She gave him a peck on the cheek before pulling away. To her surprise, he walked towards the door.

“I’ll be right back.”

Sansa continued dancing. When Petyr came back, she bursted into laughter. He’d put a replacement mob over his head, and he also wore his sunglasses.

_Dale cariño pa que se encienda su luz._

He approached her and lifted her and spun around, and Sansa extended her arms, her laughter echoed in the room.

When the song ended, another one started. It was a reggaeton song. Their eyes met.

“I haven’t listened to this one,” Petyr admitted.

“Me neither.”

Sansa loved the melodies of reggaeton songs. They were so catchy, and she could never stop herself from dancing every time she listened to one. She didn’t like the lyrics much though, so she just ignored them.

Slowly, Petyr took the replacement mop from his head and moved to sit in a chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression lordy, and moved his upper body to the rhythm of the music. The mix was hilarious. He was pretending to be an unapproachable lord, but the way he was moving and the way his lips twitched from time to time contrasted that appearance. 

Sansa stifled a giggle and spread her legs wider. She placed her hands on her knees and swung her hips in circular motions. Petyr leaned back, his lips twitching. She couldn’t help but picture him with the replacement mop still over his head. She pressed her lips together. No, she needed to focus.

She bent her knees, twerking, and saw him spread his legs apart. She smiled to herself and stopped when her backside almost touched the floor. Slowly, she began straightening her back, her eyes fixed on his face. She saw him lick his lips. Even though they were playing about, she felt the familiar jolt in her core, and knew that Petyr wasn’t indifferent to her dance either. 

She approached him and took off his sunglasses. He placed his hands on her waist as she did, and he tilted his head, giving her a chiding look, but she could see the lust in his gaze. She placed his sunglasses over her head and straddled him. She shook her hips without touching any part of his body, and he gripped her waist tighter, pulling her close.

Sansa laughed and pulled back.

“No, Petyr. We’re dancing.” She took his hands and helped him to his feet. “Be nice and I’ll dance on your lap later.”

His jaw dropped like before, making her laugh harder.

“Come,” she said. “Dance with me.”

His eyes flickered then, and it was the kind of flicker that told Sansa that he was willing to play this game.

He turned her around and stood behind her. He placed a hand on her belly, and moved his hips in a sensual way, but Sansa wasn’t going to let him win. She tilted her pelvis and rubbed her back against his torso, and smiled when she heard him inhale. It looked like she was winning. She turned around to see his face. He looked as if the room was too hot.

“I think…” Petyr swallowed and began again: “I think I love this song.”

Sansa giggled and hugged him.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song is _Huesos_ by Dani Martín and Juanes. 
> 
> The first line I quote (dale cariño pa que se encienda su luz) means "give him love to make his light shine." The second quote (Ven pa darte un abrazo y un beso que lo que te falta es eso) means "Come here so I can give you a hug and a kiss because that's what you need."


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Todays's chapter features spooky legends + smut :-) I hope you like the combination, but if you don't feel like reading about spooky legends, that's totally alright. Just skip until the line _They both let out a sigh of contentment when they entered the cottage_ :-)
> 
> As I wrote the smut I listened to _Él no soy yo_ by Blas Cantó. I hope you like it if you haven't listened to it before :-)

Thankfully it had stopped raining by the time they left the cottage. The air still smelled of rain, but it wasn’t too cold.

Sansa inhaled deeply when they reached the seafront. She could only see the seafoam as the waves crashed over the rocks, but judging by how fast they did and by the sounds, the sea was agitated. It seemed to roar.

“If the wind howled and we were carrying a gas candle, this would be the perfect setting for a gothic novel,” Petyr commented as they walked.

Sansa smiled and reached for his hand. Neither of them wore gloves, and she saw for herself that his hand was also a little cold, but she didn’t mind.

“If this were a gothic novel, we wouldn’t be visiting the tower as a tourist,” she opined. 

“Oh?” He tilted his head with curiosity. “Then why would we be visiting the tower?”

“We might have received a letter for a mysterious host, inviting us to spend a weekend there. Or we might have been requested to investigate paranormal phenomena, or to conduct an experiment.”

He shook his head, amused.

“Honestly, if I received a letter from someone I don’t know inviting me to spend a weekend in an old haunted tower, I’d decline the invitation.”

“The movie would only last a few minutes if you were the main character,” Sansa joked. “There would be only one scene: you reading the letter, crumpling it into a paper and throwing it into the nearest bin.”

“You aren’t wrong.” He smirked. “Unless I knew I’d meet a wicked girl with auburn hair and blue eyes.”

“I’m not wicked.”

“Of course you are. Remember you promised to dance on my lap if I behave, but you haven’t kept your promise.”

Sansa hid her smile. It was true. They’d been dancing to more upbeat songs after the reggaeton song, and then they’d frosted the cake and eaten dinner. 

“Well, I didn’t specify when I’d dance on your lap, Petyr.”

“See?” His eyes shone in amusement. “You’re wicked, Sansa. You cannot hide it any longer. My wicked girl.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand tenderly.

The Tower looked indeed like the perfect setting for a gothic novel with its dark stones, its narrow windows and the strange symbols carved in the wooden door.

And with the man dressed in a long black coat standing by the door. A white mask with golden symbols around the eye holes covered his whole face.

“Welcome to the Tower of Obscure Secrets,” he greeted them, his voice deep as if he were in a cave. 

He was alone. It looked like Sansa and Petyr would be the first visitors tonight.

“The Tower of Obscure Secrets?” Petyr smirked. “Wasn’t it the Tower of Drama and Sorrow the last time I visited it? And The Tower of Undisclosed Covenants the previous one?”

They couldn’t see his mouth, but the masked man’s voice sounded playful when he spoke:

“I didn’t know you loved the names I came up so much that you were keeping track of them.” His laughter rumbled under his mask, like drums playing in the distance. He extended his arm. “Petyr! I’m glad to see you, man.” 

“Me too.” Petyr shook his hand. “Have been making up many stories since the last time I saw you?”

“You know all I tell my visitors are real legends. Well, sometimes I pretty them up, but people love pretty lies. They come here to feel a rush of adrenaline.”

“And you know how to give them what they want.”

“Exactly. I’d hate to let them down.”

Petyr chuckled and winked at Sansa.

“Well, tonight you’ll have to use all your inventiveness, Eddie. My girlfriend loves spooky stories and she’s a specialist in folk literature.” 

She laughed and offered the masked man her hand.

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever legend you told us,” she assured him. “I’m Sansa.”

“Eddie.” He shook her hand. “A pleasure to meet you. I didn’t know Petyr was in a relationship.”

“I’m sorry I broke your heart, but we would have never worked as a couple,” Petyr joked.

“Idiot.” Eddie clapped Petyr’s shoulder, laughing. Then he turned to the Tower. “Well, it seems no one else is going to join us tonight. If you’re ready, we shall begin.”

Petyr took Sansa’s hand and offered her a smile. She returned it. When he’d told her about the Tower in his office, she’d had the impression that he wasn’t interested in the legends that Eddie told, but according to what she’d just heard, Petyr had visited the Tower several times and it seemed that he and Eddie got along very well.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Then, let’s start.” Petyr replied, and squeezed her hand fondly.

They followed Eddie inside. 

The candle wall lights flickered in the semidarkness. The ground floor was empty. In the middle, there was the spiral staircase without railing.

It was colder than outside. Sansa wondered if this was intentional, to make the atmosphere more ominous, or if the stone walls just made it hard to keep the Tower warm.

It was probably both, she decided.

“There are fourth floors,” Eddie explained. “The ground floor was used to store grain and other goods. According to legend, sometimes the sacks of grain disappeared mysteriously. And other times, the soldiers and servants found small things among the grain: pebbles, empty seashells... Who put them in there or why remains a mystery.”

“Surely ghosts have better things to do,” Petyr said.

Sansa gave him a soft pat on the arm.

“Behave,” she chided, but she couldn’t help but find his comment fun.

He looked even more amused than before. 

“Petyr always makes witty remarks when he’s here,” Eddie intervened. “A while ago, I came to the conclusion that he uses humor as a defense mechanism.” He paused for a moment and added in a teasing tone: “You know, to hide how much this Tower scares him.”

Petyr took his comment with grace. He tilted his head and offered Eddie a small smile.

“Maybe you are right.” His smile widened. “Or maybe not.”

Eddie shook his head. Sansa felt as if she’d just witnessed a banter between brothers.

They went up to the second floor. Eddie led the way. Sansa walked up the stairs behind him, and Petyr was at the end. 

There were several wooden boards filled with straw.

“These wooden boards are from last century,” Eddie explained. “They were placed here to make this room look more realistic. The second floor and the third floors were supposed to be places to rest and eat after spending several hours on watch,” Eddie said once they reached the second floor. “As you can imagine, the fourth floor is the lookout platform. However, there’s a legend about the third floor…” His voice trailed off as his gaze fell upon Petyr.

“Hey, I haven’t said anything.” Petyr raised his hands, his expression amused.

“You haven’t yet,” Eddie replied. Sansa was certain that he was smiling.

“Exactly, so you should make the most of it.” Petyr offered him a cunning smile. “Go on. Tell her about Robar II Royce.”

“Don’t ruin the surprise, man!” 

Petyr chuckled.

“Sorry.”

Eddie let out an affected sigh and motioned to the staircase.

“Please, follow me. We’re heading to what’s probably the most haunted room in the whole tower.”

Sansa knew they wouldn’t be acting like this if there were other visitors. She was glad they were alone, and she was also glad that Petyr and Eddie were lightening the mood, though she wasn’t going to admit it to them.

The third floor was empty save for a mahogany wooden bed frame. Unlike the beds on the second floor, this one looked majestic. It looked like a bed for kings and princes.

“From what era is it?” Sansa asked Eddie.

“It was commissioned at the end of the XVIII century for this specifical room. The governor of The Fingers at that time was passionate about Art history and legends and wanted this Tower to be a tourist attraction. Besides, he also loved the legend Petyr kindly mentioned earlier, ruining the suspense I was building,” he added turning to him.

“See? He’s the one teasing me and not the other way around!” Petyr exclaimed looking at Sansa.

She smiled. Now they were acting like two little boys, seeking her approval and asking her to side with one of them.

“You started,” she reminded him.

Petyr pretended to be absolutely baffled.

“My girlfriend turns against me. I can’t believe it,” he murmured to himself.

“Accept your defeat, man,” Eddie said.

Petyr crossed his arms over his chest.

“Never. I’ll find a way to turn the tables.”

“I’d love to see that,” Eddie replied. “Now, we should return our attention to this room and the legend of Robar II Royce and the princess he locked up in here. The Princess of Pentos, a woman of ethereal beauty, who according to some sources was kin to elves. Robar fell in love with her, but it was an unrequited love. Robar II Royce was used to winning so he didn’t accept a no for answer. He kidnapped her and locked her up in this room. No one could enter here; no one except him. It seemed that she had only two choices: either being his mistress or his captive. The legend said that Robar was confident that after spending a while in the tower, the princess would choose him. Every morning, he walked into this room and asked her the same question: “Will you be mine today?” And she always replied: “No, I’ll never be yours. I prefer to stay in this tower forever. One morning, however, when he walked into this room, the princess wasn’t here. She had vanished. He hurried to look out the narrow window, expecting to see her body on the ground below the Tower, even though it was impossible she’d managed to leave through the window.” A silence fell over the room before Eddie went on: “She wasn’t there either. Robar ordered his soldiers to search for her at every house and to interrogate every dweller. He was convinced that someone had helped her escape. He hadn’t considered the idea that this was a paranormal event. Until one night.” “Eddie paused again, but this time, the silence lasted longer.

“What happened one night?” Sansa finally asked.

She was certain that Eddie had smiled under his mask.

“One night the moon turned silver and a bitter cry echoed in the five peninsulas of The Fingers, a cry that made the sheeps crowd together in the barns and the chickens hide under the straw. Every dweller in The Fingers knew that it was a bad omen, and they blocked all the doors and windows, and begged the Seven Gods to protect them. The next morning, Robar II Royce was found drowned in the rock beach. He didn’t show any signs of violence, but the legend said there was an expression of absolute terror on his face, as if his worst nightmare had appeared before his eyes, taking his last breath away. No one else had heard that cry again. And no one knows what happened to The Princess of Pentos or who or what killed Robar.”

Sansa shuddered. Beside her, Petyr took her hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes.” She turned to him and offered a smile. She didn’t know what scared her most. if the fact that a king could lock up someone in a room and no one took any action or the fact that a supernatural creature could herald a death. 

“It’s spooky, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. It reminds me a little of the legends about banshees.”

“There are similarities,” Eddie jumped in. “There are several legends all over the world about supernatural weeping creatures either seeking revenge or announcing when someone’s time is up.”

“There’s little information about Robar II Royce,” Sansa said. “I didn’t know he’d kidnapped a princess.”

Beside her, Petyr grinned.

“I told you. Eddie loves making up stories.” 

“Of course not!” Eddie protested. “As I said before, all my stories are real legends. I learned most of them from my grandparents and uncles or by talking to other people who heard them from their ancestors. These legends have passed down the generations.”

“You should write them,” Sansa told him.

Eddie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took off his mask and lowered his hood, revealing a straight-edged nose with freckles, green eyes and bright red curls that fell down his ears and cheeks. He must be around Petyr’s age, Sansa thought. Eddie flashed her a grin, the first one she could see. His voice sounded less deep than before now that he was wearing his mask: 

“This is something I’ve considered doing. I wouldn’t like these legends to disappear. So far I’ve written down some notes. I’d like to write an introduction before each legend, mentioning the people who told me about them and adding a brief analysis and interpretation.”

“I’d love to own a copy if you end up writing it,” she said.

“I’ll happily send you a copy.” He looked at Petyr and added: “And I’ll give you another copy. Signed with all my love.”

“I’m touched.” Petyr’s eyes shone with amusement.

They stood there for a little while, and Sansa thought about the legend she’d just heard. She didn’t want to imagine how the princess must have felt if the legend was true. She’d like to think the princess had managed to escape, that she hadn’t turned into a vengeful spirit. But then, who had killed Robar?

That was the problem or the charm of legends. You never know what was true or what had really happened; what had been the seed that originated it.

When they went up to the lookout platform, Eddie told them about the strange visions some soldiers had had. Visions about creatures that warned them about future threats or foresaw the outcome of a battle. This time, Petyr didn’t make any funny remarks. He just watched the landscape. The view was breathtaking: they could see the reflections of the moon on the water, and if they looked at the horizon, they could also see the electric lights in the most remote peninsula of The Fingers. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Eddie broke the silence. He moved to stand beside her.

“Yes.” She turned to him and smiled. “The Fingers is a magical place. I wish we could stay a few days more.”

“Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

Eddie seemed to notice because he said.

“I promise I’ll work on the book at least once a week. The next time you come back, I’ll show you my progress.”

Her face lit up.

“That would be wonderful!” She turned to Petyr and saw him smiling too. 

“Besides,” Eddie continued. “There’s still another legend I’d like to tell you. It’s about the staircase.”

“Oh.” She turned to Petyr again and he chuckled. 

“You must be so proud of yourself,” he told Eddie. “When was the last time you had such a receptive audience?”

“Never,” he affirmed smiling at Sansa. “It’s great to have such a great audience.” He looked at Petyr. “It’s great to see you again.” 

Petyr opened his mouth to speak, but Eddie hurried to lift his hands. “Don’t say it. I know it has sounded corny.”

Petyr opened his mouth again.

“I was just going to say that it’s great to see you too,” he said, taking Eddie off guard.

“What? Who are you and what have you done with Petyr?” Eddie asked.

Sansa looked at them alternatively, her lips curved up.

“You two are so cute,” she said.

A boyish expression flashed across Petyr’s face and he said quickly:

“Okay. Let’s change the subject before I go red.”

Eddie laughed.

“Alright. Let’s go downstairs.”

As they made their way down to the first floor, he told them about the legend that said the spiral staircase was magical. 

“According to the legend, you can travel to a parallel universe and find another version of you.”

“Just imagine if you find an evil version of yourself,” Petyr said as he descended the stairs behind Sansa. “Or if your lover is your enemy.”

“Your ability to see the positive side of things never ceases to amaze me,” Eddie joked.

They stepped outside. The air still smelled of rain, and a gentle breeze blew through their clothes. It was past midnight.

“Thank you for coming,” Eddie said, extending his arm. “I had so much fun tonight.”

“Me too,” Sansa said, shaking his hand. 

“I cannot wait to hear what name you choose for the Tower the next time,” Petyr told him when it was his turn to shake Eddie’s hand.

“That’s an easy choice. The Tower of Stop Being Such a Tease.” Eddie grinned.

“Touché.” Petyr tilted his head, his lips twitching.

“Now seriously, I hope to see both of you soon,” Eddie said. 

They promised to visit him the next time they came to The Fingers. 

“He’s a nice guy,” Sansa told Petyr as they went back to the cottage.

“Yes. But don’t tell him or he’ll strut around.”

Sansa laughed.

“Whom does that remind me of?”

“I never strut around”” Petyr protested.

“I never said it was you.” She couldn’t bite back a mischievous smile.

“I reaffirm what I said earlier. You’re wicked.”

They both let out a sigh of contentment when they entered the cottage. It was warm inside, and the scent of spices from the carrot cake still lingered in the air. They had eaten a slice before dinner and both had agreed it was delicious. Sansa would take the leftover cake to her house tomorrow.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she told Petyr as they took off their coats. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Even though they’d been doing a lot of stuff all day along, Sansa wasn’t tired.

“Are you tired?” she asked him. 

His eyes flickered.

“I was going to ask you the same question, sweetling, though I was going to wait until we showered.”

“Ah, but I thought it would be best to ask this question now”. She approached him and placed a hand on his chest. “You know, it would be a waste of time putting on our pajamas only to remove them some seconds later…”

The flicker in his eyes grew more intense.

“I like how you think,” he murmured.

She smiled. Her hand brushed across his clothed chest. She looked him in the eye.

“I’d also like to give you a massage,” she told him. The previous times they’d made love, he’d focused on her, on caressing her body, and she knew that touching her pleased and aroused him, but tonight, she wanted him to lie down and let her caress him.

“Oh.” He tilted his head, intrigued and pleased at her words.

“Yes, and I’d like to apply the musk rose oil on your scar, if you let me.” 

“Of course.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be naked in bed by the time you enter the room.”

Sansa smiled and touched his chin with her forehead before lifting her head to look at his face.

“How do you know it will take me longer to shower?”

“I can be really quick when there’s such a pretty incentive.” He winked at her.

*

As he told her, he was naked in bed when she stepped into the bedroom. He was lying on his side, his face resting on his hand. He’d pushed aside the blanket that was now on the edge of the bed.

Sansa stopped by the door, her eyes traveling down his body.

“Do you like what you see?” he teased. His eyes were also scanning her, and the look on his face made her feel the most beautiful woman in the world.

She grinned.

“I bet you’ve been waiting until you heard my footsteps before propping yourself on an elbow and lying on your side.”

“Hey, don’t ruin my attempts at seductions, sweetling.”

She laughed and approached him. He’d already placed the bottle of musk rose oil on the nightstand. She opened the bottle and poured a few drops into the palm of her hand.

Petyr rolled on his back when she crawled into bed, a smug smile on his face. Sansa straddled him. 

“I’d never be able to ruin your attempts at seduction,” she told him. “You’re the sexiest man alive.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to his scar. 

Petyr shut his eyes and groaned softly. 

“The sexiest man alive,” she repeated and began applying the musk rose oil on his scar gently.

He opened his eyes and watched her with a daze expression.

“Maybe I’m dreaming after all,” he murmured.

“Of course not. I’m real.”

He put his hands on her waist and replied:

“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were part of my dream.”

She shook her head, laughing. Once she finished massaging his scar, she moved her hands to his shoulders and began rubbing them. Petyr threw his head back and exhaled.

“Relax,” she whispered. Suddenly, an idea entered her mind. She hadn’t danced on his lap yet. She thought about the most seductive songs she’d ever heard and smiled to herself when she found the perfect one. Her hands slid down his collarbone, and she hummed.

Then, she lifted her hips and started to move them in slow and circular motions.

Petyr gasped.

“Sweetling.” He swallowed thickly.

“I always keep my promises.” She hummed again as she caressed his chest hair. She wanted to make him feel good. She wanted to learn the most sensitive spots on his body, the things that aroused him most.

He opened his mouth but closed it, apparently lost for words. He didn’t try to buck against her until her hands trailed down his ribcage. His chest rose, and he arched his back.

“Too much stimulation,” he panted.

She smiled at him.

“It’s okay. Don’t fight it.” She moved away from him and kneeled beside him. He’d hardened when she was on top of him. Now he looked ready for her. It wouldn’t take her long to be as ready for him as he was for her. Her hand returned to his chest, and she leaned forward to kiss his lips.

Petyr kissed her back, and his left hand cupped the back of her head.

When they broke the kiss, she caressed his belly. She could feel his abdomen tightening under her hand, and he shuddered. 

“Does it feel good?” she asked.

“Hmm.” His eyes fluttered closed. “So good.”

“May I stroke you?” she asked moving her hand down but stopping at his pelvis.

He opened his eyes and swallowed before nodding.

“Yeah.”

She wrapped her hand around his length and heard him suck in a breath.

“Tell me if this feels good, Petyr.” 

She began stroking him, remembering the way he liked it from the day she’d made him come in her hand.

His hands gripped the sheet, and he nodded. A groan escaped him before he whispered.

“Yeah. Yeah, like that.” He couldn’t stop himself from rocking his hips slightly. 

She pressed her thighs together, trying to relieve the ache she felt as she kept stroking him. She was willing to let him come in her hand this time too. The look of pleasure on his face was absolutely beautiful. But after a little while, his hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her movement with a grunt.

Sansa paused and waited for him to speak.

He tightened his jaw and took a deep breath before offering her a smile.

“Unless you don’t want me inside you tonight, you should stop, sweetling.”

She returned his smile.

“I want you. So badly.”

His eyes lit up.

“Then, allow me a moment.” He sat up and moved to grab a condom from the nightstand.

Sansa watched him break the package, and an idea entered her mind.

“May… May I put it on you?” she asked. She’d never done it before, and she was curious. 

He looked up at her and smiled.

“Of course. Come here.”

“What should I do?”

“Hold the tip between your forefinger and thumb. Now put it over the tip, careful there’s no air trapped inside. Like this. Very good. Now roll it down all the way to the base.” He let out a soft moan as she did, sending a jolt through her core. “Ah, perfect.” 

Sansa beamed. 

“Could you be on top tonight?” she asked him. “I’d like to feel your body above mine.”

He cupped her face and kissed her sweetly.

“It will be my pleasure,” he whispered near her mouth.

Sansa lay on her back and spread her legs apart. 

“My turn,” he said with a smirk. He placed his hand on her belly sending chills up her spine.

“Petyr.”

“Hmm.” His hand slid up, and he cupped her right breast. “Did you think I was going to miss the opportunity to caress your body?”

“Yes.” She didn’t know if she’d answered her question or asked him for more. She just knew his hand felt so good. She arched her back under his touch, and he grinned.

“That’s my sweetling.” He settled between her legs and sucked the spot under her jaw. “Touching you is one of the things I love most. You’re so beautiful and soft and warm, and I love making you sigh and moan and beg for more.” He brushed her lips with his lightly.

“Petyr.” She smiled. “Don’t be a tease.”

“Oh, but you love that.” His hand caressed her inner thigh.

“Please, Petyr. Please.”

His hand reached down between their bodies, and Sansa sighed when she felt the tip of his cock at her entrance.

“Is this what you want, sweetling?”

“Yes.”

He entered her slowly, the friction so good that they both sighed. His belly touched hers, as he moved, and she could feel his warmth. She'd loved being on top earlier, but so far, she liked this position better because she felt closer to him.

He paused once he finished entering her. 

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he murmured, his eyes on hers.

“Me neither.” She wrapped her arms around his body.

He gave her a peck on the lips before pulling out slowly. Then, he pushed back in, and Sansa realized that it wouldn’t take her long to come. All the time they’d spent together today, taking walks, and baking, and making the ornament for the garden, and visiting the tower, and talking, had felt like foreplay somehow, even though they'd had sex in the evening too.

He also seemed to think the same, for his body was shuddering hard every time he thrusted in. He set a lazy pace inside her, perhaps trying to make their lovemaking last longer. 

Petyr didn’t speed up when she clenched around him as the first waves washed over her body, slow like a calm sea.

“That’s it,” he encouraged her. 

His forearms, that were supporting his body, trembled when he reached his peak. Sansa was still in the middle of hers, and seeing the pleasure on his face, intensified hers. A last wave, more powerful than the others, crashed over her body.

“Petyr.”

She held him until his body relaxed, her mind light, a pleasant tingle spreading through her from her to toes. She could fall asleep like this. Her eyelids felt already heavy.

Petyr pulled out of her and kissed her temple. Her lips curved up.

She forced herself to go clean herself. Petyr also went to the other bathroom. When she returned, he was already in bed, waiting for her. He smiled and pulled the blanket under their chins. Sansa wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled up to him, loving how warm he was. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she managed to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” she said.

He sucked in a breath, and for a moment his own emotions, that Sansa could see flickering in his eyes, seemed to overwhelm him. He pulled her closer and kissed her head.

“I love you too."


End file.
